


Home Again...Home Again

by Desade, Eviscera



Series: Ouchy-Verse [13]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 14:26:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1782304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desade/pseuds/Desade, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eviscera/pseuds/Eviscera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A trip home results in a long awaited reunion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Again...Home Again

Clint blinked at Thor, his brow furrowing as he asked, “Wait a minute.  Don’t you usually do this sort of thing outsi-“

And then his words were lost in a low, vibrating tone that the archer could feel in his bones.  An explosion of multicolored light surrounded them, and Clint felt gravity give up its’ hold on him.  He had a momentary thought that this was _nothing_ like he’d imagined it would be; nothing like the transporter beam in Star Trek, or the Stargate portal.

Instead he felt as though a hand had reached into his chest, closed tight around his heart, and was now dragging him off to parts unknown.

He clenched his teeth against the shout he felt rising in his throat, and his eyes followed suit as the colors leaped and danced around him, making the archer slightly nauseated in their swirling brilliance.

And almost immediately thereafter, Clint felt a jarring thump and then he was motionless; standing on a cold, flat surface, Loki’s hand on his shoulder.

"Holy shit," Clint murmured.  "That was some ride."

"Be still," Loki breathed.  "It will take a moment for you to recover."

"Ya think," he answered dryly.  The archer leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees, and slowly opening his eyes.  His vision swam for a moment before snapping back into focus.

"Oh, goddamn it," he growled as he gazed down at his feet.

"What is it," Loki asked, concern heavy in his voice. "What is wrong?"

"I forgot my shoes," Clint answered.  "Guess that’s what I get for being in such a hurry, right?"

His shoes weren’t the only problem with his wardrobe, now that he thought about it.  He was on his way to meet _royalty_ , for fuck’s sake, and he was dressed in a rumpled t-shirt and sleep pants.  It seemed that they had all been a bit hasty in the decision to leave right away.

"Worry not," Loki assured him, stepping closer to brush the wrinkles from his shirt.  "The road to the Golden City may be long, but your feet should not suffer.  I shall carry you."

Clint blinked, then leveled such an un-amused glare at him that Loki couldn’t keep his smirk from unfolding into a grin.

"I don’t believe that will be necessary," a deep, booming voice announced, and all three newcomers turned towards the center of the great domed room.  There, standing on the raised dais with sword and armor both gleaming gold, was Heimdall, stoic and unaffected as ever.  "The All-Father has anticipated your arrival and sent an escort for the royal sons and their… guest."

"Ha!  I see I am not the only one who wishes you welcome home, brother," Thor boomed before striding to the archway.

Loki stood rooted to the spot, watching Thor’s departure with eyes that seemed to see nothing of what they touched on.  Clint didn’t miss the way they shone just a little too brightly, or the tiny tremors in his jaw that had gone slack at Heimdall’s words.

"Loki?" Clint called, laying his hand on the god’s arm.  He could feel him shaking through the cloth of his sleeve.  "You okay?"

Green eyes blinked back into focus and found Clint’s own, and for just a split second, he could see an eon’s-worth of pain and hurt behind them before it was smoothed over with a thin veneer, like a skim of ice over a frozen lake.

"We shall soon see, won’t we?" he answered, and Clint didn’t like the almost-mechanical tone of his voice.  Before he could say anything, however, Loki went on.  "Before we leave, I really must ask; you don’t plan on wearing _that_ , do you?”

Clint looked down at himself and gestured helplessly before spearing Loki with a pointed glare.  “Not much choice.  I’m afraid I left all of my _fancy_ gear back on _Earth_.”

"I suppose we could have Heimdall send us back to collect your attire," Loki mused, a slight, teasing note to his voice.  "It will take but a moment."

"No," Clint answered quickly.  "I mean…that’s ok.  I’m not quite ready for another go at Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride right now.  This will have to do."

Loki cocked his head, giving Clint a long, curious look, obviously wondering over the odd reference.  Then he shook his head and smiled softly before murmuring, “As if I would condemn you to face Odin in such a state.  That would be _cruel_.  No, I believe I have _just_ the thing to remedy the problem.”

Clint’s eye narrowed as Loki began to circle the archer.  “What’re you gonna do?” he asked slowly, turning his head to track the god’s movements.

"Patience," Loki cooed.  "You will see soon enough."

"Crap," Clint muttered.

Loki stroked his right hand across the archer’s shoulders, quietly reciting a long string of unfamiliar words.  Clint felt a slight tingle; the hair on the nape of his neck standing on end as a veil of magic wound its way around him.  There was a brief flash of light, and then Loki breathed, “There.  That is _far_ more suited to you, I think.”

Clint looked down at himself and uttered a small, “Oh.”

Gone were the t-shirt and flannel pants he’d arrived in, and in their place was a wealth of soft black leather with burgundy accents and flowing cowled cape.  A pair of cuffed boots covered his feet, and he shifted his weight, testing the fit of them.

"Well, I suppose this will do," Clint mused.  "Sorta feel like a pirate, now…but yeah.  This is good."

"I’m glad you approve," Loki answered.  "Now come.  Thor is waiting."

Clint trailed along behind, twisting his head around to get a look at the cape as it swirled around his ankles.  Never in his years of being a super spy had he ever entertained the thought that he would be wearing a cape.  Honestly, he didn’t understand the appeal, but it must pass as the norm around here because both Thor and Loki wore them.  Even as they made their way to the archway, a bright flash of green light engulfed Loki, and when it faded, he was also dressed as an Asgardian, quite similar to the way he was dressed when Clint had first seen him, though slightly less menacing, and there was a distinct lack of armor.

"That’s a neat trick," Clint said as he caught up with Loki’s longer strides.

"Indeed?" the god asked absently, his gaze already peering far off into the distance, towards the brilliantly shining spires of the Golden City.  Clint followed his gaze to the tallest of the towering buildings, what he assumed must be the palace.  "Perhaps, one day, I shall show you how it is done."

"Uh…," Clint’s voice trailed off, unsure if it was a joke or if Loki seriously intended to teach him magic.  When Loki turned to look at him, Clint could see right through the calm façade, to the worry he was trying so hard to keep from showing.  "Hey, you sure you’re okay?"

A tiny half-smile touched Loki’s face and he turned back to their escort; five armored guards on horseback, with three riderless mounts waiting for them.

"Worry not, my Hawk," he said, reaching up to stroke across the muzzle of his waiting mount.  It was a strangely gentle gesture.  "It has merely been… oh, a millennia since I have stepped foot inside the palace of the All-Father."

Clint suddenly felt silly asking if Loki was merely _okay_ , as if returning home after being banished was something he could simply shake off after a few moments.  He realized this was yet one more thing the god felt would never come to pass; much like he had never held out any hope of Clint returning his feelings.

Well, he’d been wrong about that.  Hopefully, this visit would go just as well.

First thing was first, though; Clint was going to have to learn to ride a horse.

Loki swung easily into the saddle before casting his gaze back to Clint.  The archer stood next to his mount, an apprehensive set to his features as he looked over the horse’s tack.  He gave a brief nod before gripping the saddle-horn, slipping his foot into the stirrup and heaving himself aboard.  The horse stood placidly as Clint shifted, trying to acclimate himself to the feel of sitting astride 1000 pounds of living creature.

"Have you never ridden?" Loki asked.

"Nope," Clint replied with a grin.  "Never had a situation where it was needed.  But this doesn’t seem so bad."

"Odin’s steeds are exceptionally well trained," Loki said quietly.  "I doubt you will have a problem."

"Shall we proceed?" Thor called back over one shoulder.

"Lead the way," Loki answered, giving a slight flick to the reins gripped in his left hand.

The guards moved out ahead, taking a triangular formation as they trotted briskly across the expanse of colored glass.  Thor followed closely as Loki and Clint lagged a few lengths behind, the archer fighting to match the bouncing rhythm of his mount.

"Anticipate the motion," Loki offered.  "And move _with_ the horse instead of against it.  That way you will not find the ride quite so jarring.”

"Thanks," Clint answered dryly.  "Hadn’t thought of that."

Loki smiled ruefully before answering, “I am simply trying to be of service.”

"Gotcha," Clint shot back.  "It’s just…this is a little harder than it looks."

"And we’re barely moving," Loki laughed.  "Pray Thor does not become impatient and insist on a full gallop."

Clint bounced particularly hard on the next step and winced.  “Yeah, no.  No running, please.  I don’t need any more bruises.”

Loki’s eyes raked over Clint’s body from head to toe, a smirk slowly crossing his face at the reminder of the bruises hidden beneath all of that black leather.

For Clint, it was strange to think that, less than an hour ago, they’d been naked in bed after possibly the most frantic coupling they’d ever had.  His discomfort was less from riding and more a result of _being_ ridden — hard.  It wasn’t often that Clint regretted anything he’d done with Loki — even the visible marks that were often left behind didn’t faze him much — but he was finding himself lamenting the fact that he’d insisted on such rough treatment before being made to ride horseback along a glittering glass bridge spanning over nothingness.

To distract himself from the aching reminder of that morning, Clint decided to get Loki talking.

"So I thought you said this place got blown up a while back," he said, twisting around in his saddle to take in the enormous rounded dome of the Bifrost.  "Must have some pretty good engineers around here to get it rebuilt so fast."

Loki hummed an acknowledgement and glanced back himself.  It was largely as he’d remembered it, before his actions had forced Thor into destroying the entire thing.

"Time passes differently here, my Hawk," he said, turning from the sight.  "What seems a year to you on Midgard could be as twenty to those in this realm.  It is not certain how much time has passed since I was last here.  I know it has been centuries, though it feels as though just yesterday I rode out with my brother upon this very bridge, towards a battle that changed my life in many ways."

Clint watched him closely and took note of the subdued cadence of his speech, the far-off look of memory in his eyes, and the furrow of his brow.  Whether he was remembering some far-off pain or dreading what was to come, Clint had no idea, he just knew he hated seeing his god hurting for any reason.

"Centuries, though," Clint said, and Loki’s eyes slid away from the towering city in the distance to rest on his Hawk.  "Time enough, right?"

Loki blinked at him in confusion.  “Time enough for what?”

Clint shrugged one shoulder, causing his mount to snort in irritation at being given a command it couldn’t interpret.  “Forgiveness, I guess?  I mean, you said they’re practically immortal around here, but they can’t hold grudges for _that_ long, can they?”

"You would be surprised," Loki answered dryly.  "I, myself, once harbored ill-feelings that spanned nearly a millennia."

 

"Well, yeah," Clint prodded.  "But you eventually let all that go, right?"

 

"I did," Loki agreed.  "But only after a hard-fought internal battle.  Sometimes it is easier to nurse long-held slights than to examine the situation from a neutral view.  And for some, death is preferable than admitting that they may have been wrong in their beliefs."

Clint huffed quietly and let his gaze roam over the skyline of the Golden City.  They were nearing the halfway mark now, and he could pick out brightly colored banners floating over the spires of various buildings.  Off to the left was a long dock jutting out from the city wall, with an odd assortment of ships tethered in place.  Clint watched as small shapes swarmed over the decks, carrying out their duties at a rapid pace.

Tearing his gaze from the bustling sailors, Clint said, “I know a few people like that.  Nothing matters quite as much as being right.”  He paused for a brief moment before finishing softly, “But family isn’t supposed to be like that, right?”

The god was silent for so long that Clint wasn’t sure he was going to answer.

But then Loki heaved a deep sigh and said, “No.  They certainly aren’t.  Although, considering that I am not _truly_ of Odin’s bloodline…well, that may change things.”

"It might," Clint agreed.  "But the way I see it is this; blood doesn’t mean a damn thing, really.  Sure, it says who is biologically related and who isn’t…but it doesn’t make a _family_.  Family is more than blood…it’s a bond.”

Loki cast a sideways glance at his archer, taking in the serious cast to his expression, and the ‘I am brooking no arguments’ look in his eyes.  Rarely did Clint have much to say on the subject of family as a whole, especially considering it was a sore point for them both.  But here and now, as they approached the god’s childhood home, it seemed his Hawk had quite a bit to say on the subject.

He gave a fond smile to the man at his side, fully aware that Clint was trying his hardest to set him at ease.

"We shall see, won’t we?" Loki murmured.

Clint’s brow furrowed, his jaw clenched, but he held his words behind his teeth.  He’d said all he should for the moment, he would let Loki take what he would from his words.  It was true, after all; they had no idea what they were walking into.  If it had been as long as Loki said, there was just as much a chance of them being welcomed as shunned.

Thor seemed to think things would turn out well.  Although, he’d been known to misjudge people’s intentions before.  Grievously so, at times, enough to spark more than one public relations fiasco.  Clint could see now why Loki had gone along on so many of his brother’s journeys; someone had to play the cool-headed diplomat.

Clint watched Loki from the corner of his eye and felt a strange tightening in his chest when he thought of all of the wars he’d gotten Asgard out of just by talking some sense into his hot-tempered brother.  Did _anyone_ ever give him credit, or did they simply breathe a sigh of relief at the dodged bullet and carry on?

Questions that should probably wait for another time; Loki was obviously a bit preoccupied with the present situation, and it wouldn’t do to dredge up the past and possibly rekindle old hard feelings.  Clint knew when to leave well enough alone, and there was no better time than now.

Instead, he concentrated on not falling off his horse.  He was getting more comfortable sitting upright at least, or perhaps he was simply growing numb.  The way Loki kept shooting knowing smirks at him every time he winced told him the god knew _exactly_ what was causing them and felt little to no remorse about it.

Clint resolved to bide his time until he could get a little payback.

They fell into an easy silence; the only sound that of the horse’s hooves, the creaking of leather tack, and the waves rolling far beneath the bridge.

Loki breathed deeply, taking in the unique scent of Asgard and smiling softly as the smell teased a long buried memory to the surface of his mind.  He remembered sitting on the Bifrost, Thor at his side, both of them still children.  They had dangled their feet over the side and told tales of the beasts that swam in the water below, each trying to outdo the other.  Thor had grown uneasy at Loki’s claim of a sharp-toothed whale, large enough to swallow a bilgesnipe whole, stating that is could leap from the sea high enough to snatch unwary travelers off the Bifrost itself.

The dark god chuckled to himself at the memory of how Thor had scrambled to his feet, backing away from the edge of the bridge as he stammered on about a ‘forgotten lesson’ before fleeing to the imagined safety of the palace.

"What’re you laughing at over there?" Clint asked, noting the faraway look in Loki’s eyes.

"A trick I played upon Thor in this very spot, long, long ago," he answered.  "It is hard for me to conceive that we were ever so small."

Clint felt a smile pluck at the corner of his mouth as he looked Loki over.  The tension in his shoulders had melted away, and the god seemed almost relaxed.

"Oh good," the archer replied.  "I was hoping you weren’t giggling at me."

"And why would I do such a thing?" the god asked.

Clint gestured at himself briefly before clutching the reins a little tighter.  “Hello?  I’m on a horse.  For the first time _ever_.  And I’m dressed like a goddamn pirate.  With a cape, even.”

Loki’s eyes slid over Clint before catching the archer’s gaze and holding it.  “I find nothing about you displeasing, or worthy of laughter, my dear Hawk,” he stated in a husky tone.  “Quite the opposite, in fact.  This setting, and attire, suit you well.”

Clint felt the weight of Loki’s stare; the heat of it seeming to pool in his gut.  He sat a little straighter on his mount, and let his smile bloom into a smirk before answering.  “Guess I should let you play dress-up with me more often, eh?”

"Indeed," Loki purred.

"We’re nearing the city gates," Thor called back, a wide smile on his face.  "It won’t be long now!"

"Thanks for the update, Blondie," Clint shot back.  "Didn’t see the fifty foot tall, golden barrier up ahead."

Thor’s look of confusion was more than Loki could take, and he tipped back his head, laughing merrily.

It was the most unaffected and joyous sound the archer had ever heard from his god.

It seemed it had been a long time indeed since _anyone_ had heard Loki laugh like that.  Their vanguard cast subtle looks to each other, thinking they were being unobtrusive, but Clint’s eyes were still sharper than most.  He didn’t miss the sudden changes in body language, the way the guard’s horses reacted to the shifting of their riders in their saddles.

This was what he would call a Big Deal.

Thor seemed to think so as well, and he slowed his horse until he was riding beside and only slightly ahead of Loki, casting a tired — yet relieved — smile at his brother.

"It has been an age since I last heard your laughter," he said, pitching his voice so as not to carry to the ears of their escort.  "I am not surprised it is, once again, at my expense."  A rueful grin lifted the corner of his mouth at Clint’s snort of amusement.

"You kinda make it easy, you know."

The grin did not leave Thor’s face as he turned once more to face the — admittedly impressive — gates of the city.  At their approach, the doors slowly began to open.

"Yes, I suppose I do," Thor said.  Something in his gaze — as he watched the gates open to admit the royal sons of Asgard — kept Clint from making any more cutting remarks.  "Forgive me, it seems my excitement at having my brother finally returning home has loosened both my tongue and my wits."

Loki’s silence caught Clint’s attention immediately, and his eyes slid across to take in the guarded cast of his gaze as he, too, watched the gates open.  Clint had no idea what he might be thinking in that moment; whether this homecoming was something he either welcomed or dreaded.  From the closed expression, it could have been either.

"Your wits have always been loose, Thor."  It seemed Loki’s silver tongue knew the steps, even when  Clint could tell his heart wasn’t in it.  "It is a wonder you haven’t lost them completely by now.  How _have_ you managed to get by without me for this long?”

To Clint’s surprise, it was Thor’s turn to laugh, a sudden and violent sound, like an avalanche.

"Would you believe that some of your lessons managed to stick with me?" he asked.

The look Loki sent his way answered better than words ever would, and the three passed through the gates of Asgard on a wave of Thor’s laughter.

As they entered the city proper, the tension returned to Loki’s shoulders.  He sat stiffly upon his mount, passing the familiar sights of Asgard without so much as a second look.  From the corner of his eye, he caught movement as the citizens stopped their daily routine and turned their gazes upon the knot of horsemen making their way to the palace.

Loki’s mind wandered back to the last time he’d entered Asgard; broken and bound, trailing on foot behind the royal guards as he trudged his way to stand trial for his crimes against Midgard.

He gave a slight shudder at the memory of standing before Odin and hearing the words, “To Hel with you, then!  Perhaps some time spent in the mists will show you the error of your ways.”

Frigga had gasped, and turned to her husband, heartfelt pleas spilling from her mouth, but Odin had been unmoved.

And with a flash of light, gravity had released its’ hold on Loki and he had fallen.  Again.

He shook off the memory even as Clint softly asked, “You okay?”

"Yes," Loki murmured.  "Nothing more than a bad memory come to taunt me."

Clint’s brows drew together, and he frowned lightly.  “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

"We haven’t much choice _now_ , do we, my Hawk?” Loki returned.

"Guess not," Clint shrugged.

The archer cast his gaze around, noting that the promenade was now lined with people.  Eyes followed their every move, and while some seemed openly hostile to the sight of Loki accompanying Thor and the royal guards, others seemed no more than simply curious.

And then, unexpected, the people began to bow their heads as they passed.

Clint blinked and swung his head around to take in the crowds, all bowing, some even kneeling, and he could almost hear the record-scratch of his own thoughts coming to an abrupt halt.  He turned to Loki, a thousand ways to ask the same question all battling to fall from his mouth, but he never got the chance to speak.

Loki looked at though he’d been punched in the gut; his face was pale, eyes wide and jaw slack.  His brows drew together as he, too, let his eyes slide over the bowed heads in their wake.

"Is this… normal?" Clint finally asked, and though he was still looking at Loki, it was Thor who answered.

"For the sons of Odin?" he said.  "There were times the entire city would pour from their homes to catch a glimpse of the princes of Asgard returning home."

"That was a long time ago," Loki said, his voice betraying just the slightest trace of a tremble.  His eyes still scanned the crowd, and Clint saw something far beyond memory stirring within them.

When Thor next spoke, his voice was as steady and firm as Loki’s was not.  “The memories of Asgardians are long, brother.  True, they remember what wrongs you have committed, but they also remember all that came before.  You were once beloved by our people, a prince of this realm.  No foul deed can ever erase that, Loki.”

Clint watched Loki as Thor’s words pierced whatever dark veil had fallen over his mind’s eye, and he slowly came back to himself.

It struck him then, as it never had before, that Loki’s life before he tumbled into Clint’s was so very different, on a scale he’d never been able to fathom before now.  Every single person in the city knew who Loki was; they were fucking _bowing_ to him.  There was an entire realm that had, at one time, wondered if Loki might even one day be their king.

He didn’t think he’d ever felt so small in his entire life.

Loki squared his shoulders, shaking off the unease he’d felt as the people of Asgard had begun to crowd closer.  He hadn’t _quite_ known what they would do once they assembled, and a small part of him had feared a show of anger.

‘ _It would be well within their right,_ ' he thought to himself.  ' _And who could blame them after all of the ills I visited upon Asgard during my short reign?_ ’

Luckily, the mood of the masses seemed far from angry, and Loki allowed himself to relax fully.  Had he come alone, without his Hawk at his side, then he would not have fretted over the reaction of the crowd.  But he knew that if things were to turn ugly, then Clint’s impulse would be to protect him; to stand against the mob.

And that was _not_ the first impression of Asgard that Loki wanted imprinted upon his Hawk.

Turning his head, Loki glanced at Clint, noting the strained set of his features as he surveyed the crowds.  His brow was furrowed, mouth a thin, flat line…and there was _something_ in his gaze.

Something that approached despair.

"Stop that this instant," Loki growled, his voice pitched low to keep his words from Thor.

Clint threw him a startled look.

"Stop _what_?” he asked.

"Whatever line of thought that has brought storm-clouds to your eyes," Loki responded.  "I know you well enough to see when you are troubled."

Clint opened his mouth, ready to deny Loki’s assessment of his mood.  The look the dark god leveled at him spoke of the futility in even trying such a maneuver, and the archer simply shook his head ruefully.

"You got me, Princess," he said.  "I’m just…over-thinking again."

"The only thought you need keep in that pretty head of yours is that by the end of this day we will have our answer," Loki quickly returned.  "All others, especially those that darken your visage, are not worth thinking."

Clint held Loki’s stern gaze for a long moment before huffing out an amused breath.

"Pretty, huh?" he mused.  "Not sure how I feel about that."

Loki narrowed his eyes, and Clint knew his attempt at a smokescreen was a dismal failure.

It wasn’t as though he _wanted_ to feel so insignificant, but it wasn’t like a switch he could flip in his head and all of a sudden things were picture-perfect.  If he could do that, he’d be switching a _lot_ of things off and on.  He’d just forgotten for a moment that he couldn’t hide anything from Loki, he really was a _terrible_ liar when it came to his own honest feelings.

"A discussion, perhaps, for another time," Loki said, and Clint was able to hear the real message in those words; Loki would pull those thoughts back out of him, hold them up for his inspection, and then grind them into the dirt with his boot heel.

He didn’t bother to argue, he knew it would do no good and really, that was the exact opposite of what he should do, especially here and now.  It was hard enough on Loki to have returned to his former home after being banished, to stand before the man he’d once called father, the very man who had banished him, and plead the case of the mortal he’d decided to bind himself to.

Even for Clint, that was just too much bad in one day.

No, for now, he would do all he could to make sure Loki had as little to worry about as possible, and that included having to deal with his lover’s insecurities.

He would just try to attract as little attention as he could.  He was great at inconspicuous.

Oh, but wait.  Cape.  He knew there was a reason super-secret spy assassins didn’t wear capes.

Loki kept his gaze firmly on his Hawk as they passed the assembled throngs of people.  They were fast leaving behind the residential area and drawing near the business district.  Beyond that lay the great gardens that sprawled before the palace itself.

They rode in silence, each contemplating what was to come, each turning over their worries while keeping a placid mask in place.

Clint struggled with the idea that Odin had perhaps called them all this way just so that he could witness their reactions when he denied Loki’s request.

Loki feared Clint’s response should Odin prove himself to be arrogant, waspish man Loki remembered him to be.

And both dreaded an outright refusal of help in this matter.

Thor slowed his horse even further, drawing abreast of Loki and smiling gently at his brother.  “I can see your worry,” he murmured.  “Must I remind you that should Odin deny you in this, there _are_ other avenues that can be taken?”

"I need no reminding," Loki replied.  "But I am loathe to put you in such a position.  It is far too much to ask."

"Nothing is too much to ensure your happiness, brother," Thor scoffed.  "If this is what you desire, then I will see it done.  No matter the cost."

"The cost is what worries me," Loki returned softly.

Clint glanced at the brothers as they spoke, catching a word here and there from between the sound of hooves striking the pathway.  The brilliant glass of the Bifrost had given way to a cobblestone street that wouldn’t have looked out of place in any European village, and the buildings had fallen behind them as they entered the gardens.

The archer turned his attention away from Thor and Loki, instead studying the open area they now found themselves traversing.  Unfamiliar flowers grew in orderly beds bordered by small hedges, and large trees spread their branches overhead, diffusing the sunlight and dappling the path before them.

Golden statues were scattered throughout the garden, each seeming to pay homage to some historical figure or another.  Clint smirked at one depicting an archer standing against what could only be a bilgesnipe.  Whoever had designed it had gotten the stance _all_ wrong; the archer’s elbow was far too high and his weight was shifted too far back.

He’d be lucky not to fall on his ass when he loosed that arrow.

Clint snorted in amusement as they passed the statue, and Loki gave him a questioning glance.

"And what has set that odd sense of humor in motion _now_ , if I may ask?”

"Nothing much," Clint replied.  "Just…some of these decorations are a bit over the top."

"If you think these gaudy, my Hawk, just _wait_ until you enter the palace itself,” Loki hummed.

"Looking forward to it," Clint laughed.

Truthfully, he was looking forward to anything that would ease the tension he could feel mounting within him.  Any excuse not to have to think about what they were riding towards would be welcome, even if it was merely to critique Asgardian statuary.

The palace was looming closer, Clint had to crane his neck back to take in the enormous spire piercing the skies.  There was an odd sort of thrumming he could feel in the air, some kind of resonance, as if a city-sized arc reactor was at work somewhere beneath the ground.  It made the hairs on his neck stand on end, and there was an odd, vibrating tickle in his inner ear.

Then they passed some sort of threshold, and the feeling was gone.

"The hell was that?" Clint asked, rubbing the back of his neck to rid himself of the phantom tickle.

Both Loki and Thor looked over at him in mild surprise.

"You felt it?" Loki asked.

Clint blinked at him, then looked back over his shoulder at the pathway behind them.  Now that he was looking back, he could see an odd sort of shimmering haze between them and the outer courtyard.  It made him feel vaguely nauseous to look through it.

"I felt _something_ ,” he said, turning back in his saddle as he blinked his eyes back into focus.

Thor made a low hum of confusion.  “We have just crossed the palace grounds.  My mother Frigga has set a protective ward over our home, something to alert her should any visitors to the palace harbor ill will towards the royal family.”

Both Loki and Thor were leveling hard looks on him.

"Hey, whoa, don’t look at _me_ like that,” he said, holding up his hands.  “I’m the last person looking to start a fight _here._  Besides, I left all my arrows at home.”

Loki hummed in agreement and turned to Thor.  “It could merely be a normal Midgardian reaction to warding spells.  My own magic has been dampened, I’ve not been able to use much more than minor conjuration and an illusion or two.”

Thor nodded.  “Yes, it is possible the stronger magics would affect him differently.”

“ _He_ can hear you, you know,” Clint piped up.

"Of course you can," Loki replied absently, the set of his brows making it clear that he was still mulling over _exactly_ what could have caused such a reaction in his Hawk.  “Forgive me, but this is a curious development.  One which I did not foresee.”

"Is it a problem?" Clint asked.

"Nothing of the sort," the dark god murmured.  "Simply…an anomaly."

"Oh good," Clint groused.  "That makes me feel _SO_ much better about it.”

Loki shot the archer an exasperated look before following it up with a deep sigh.  “Forgive me, but I can think of no better term for such a thing.  The wards are not _meant_ to be noticeable.  The fact that you were able to detect them at all is an oddity.”

"Perhaps he has a natural sensitivity?" Thor ventured.

"That is possible," Loki mused.  "After all, Clint’s other senses are rather heightened for a mortal."

"Hello?   _Still_ here,” Clint rumbled in an unamused tone.

They continued on in quiet contemplation, following a curved pathway to the foot of a wide, golden staircase.  Several pages milled about, waiting the lead the horses to the stables once they had been dismounted.

Clint slid gracefully from the back of his horse, and then nearly stumbled when his cape caught on the edge of the saddle.  He swore softly as he tugged the material free, and then shot a chagrined look Loki’s way.

"Knew there was a reason I didn’t like these things," he mumbled.

"Pity," Loki replied.  "I rather favor you in this manner of dress."

Clint absently brushed his hands down the front of his tunic and looked down at himself.  He still wasn’t used to being encased in quite so much leather.  It fit well, no doubt, and it wasn’t like it was a chore to wear, but it would take some getting used to.  And apparently, Loki liked it.

"Truly," Thor agreed, giving Clint an appraising eye.  "It seems Asgard agrees with you, my friend.  Perhaps it is a sign from the Norns."

Loki gave Thor a wry smirk while Clint blinked in confusion.

"What the hell is a Norn?" he asked as Thor made his way to the staircase.

Loki sighed and followed after his brother, his fingers catching in the trailing end of Clint’s cape as he passed.  “When we have a free moment, perhaps I shall tell you.  For now, let us ignore my idiot brother and simply try to get through this ordeal unscathed.”

Clint was all for that, and he fell into step beside Loki after tugging his cape free.  There was a tiny, pleased smile pulling at the corner of Loki’s mouth, and Clint got the impression that, despite the reason they had arrived in Asgard to begin with, he was secretly pleased that Clint was there with him in the place that had been his home.

In a way, Clint could understand; he’d felt the same when he was still teaching Loki the ways of Midgard.  So many little things that he’d taken for granted, and Loki had been utterly mystified by.  He still remembered explaining time zones and why, twice a year, they would have to reset the clocks.

“ _How does one cage_ time _?”_ Loki had wanted to know.

 _"Dunno, Princess,"_ Clint had said as he put the clock back up on the wall behind the couch. _"I don’t think they thought this through very well before they started messing with my sleep schedule."_

Well, if it made Loki happy to show off, Clint would humor him.  Hell, he hadn’t had to fake being impressed so far.

Thor had nearly crested the long flight of stairs before Loki and Clint had even reached the halfway mark.  The crown prince’s enthusiasm was writ on his face as he waited for them at the top, grinning widely.

"Blondie sure is jazzed," Clint ventured.  "Is that a good sign?"

"We can hope," Loki replied.  "But Thor is notoriously optimistic.  Even in the face of certain doom, he rarely loses that mindset."

"Really?  That’s sort of…weird, I guess."

"It’s _maddening_ ,” Loki corrected.  “There have been more than a handful of times in which I fully expected us to meet our end, and yet, that smile never left his face.  Even when we invaded Jotunheim; a party of _six_ against all that realm had to throw against us…and Thor never once doubted our victory.”

"Well…he doesn’t lack confidence, that’s for sure."

Loki snorted and shook his head.  “I believe you mean ego, my dear Hawk.”

"Same thing, really," Clint shot back, giving the dark god a pointed look.  "After all, I know someone _else_ that sort of fits that description.”

Loki narrowed his eyes before growling, “I do hope you are speaking of Stark.”

"Ok, I know a _few_ someone elses that fit that description,” Clint smirked.

The glower Clint received in return would have sent anyone else running for cover, but the archer just uttered a soft laugh followed up with a crooked grin.

"Jokes, Princess.  Remember?"

"I still think that words must hold _some_ measure of amusement in order to qualify as a ‘joke’,” Loki sniffed.

"Oh, c’mon," Clint pouted.  "I’m hilarious!"

Loki held his glare for a moment longer before the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.  He never could stand against the mock-wounded looks that his Hawk would affect at moments like these, and this time was no different.

"Of course you are," Loki murmured affectionately and twined his fingers through Clint’s.  "Now come, there is time enough for banter once this is resolved."

Clint gave an undignified yelp as Loki tugged him along, his grip on Clint’s fingers nearly vice-like.  He stumbled half a step behind as he was practically dragged through the high-ceilinged antechamber, their footsteps echoing off of the impressive stone- and metal-work.  Clint had no time to admire the architecture, however, as he was too busy staring at the back of Loki’s head to notice.

"Really?" he managed to get out as he fell into step beside Loki.  "Holding hands?  Loki, we never _hold hands_!”  He looked down to see the god’s knuckles had gone white, and tightened his own fingers before tugging hard enough to catch his attention.

When Loki turned to look at him, Clint could clearly see the panic written across his face, the cornered expression in his eyes, and he realized that Loki wasn’t just nervous.

He was fucking terrified.

"Hey," he said, as gently as he could, and pulled Loki aside until Thor and the guards were forced to stop their march or risk leaving them behind.  Clint’s eyes shot over Loki’s shoulder and met the concerned and questioning gaze, and with a tiny shake of his head, let Thor know that he had need to speak to Loki privately.

"Is this necessary?" Loki asked.  Clearly, he thought he could hide his anxiety from Clint.

"Definitely," Clint said, and there was that hard edge to his voice that made it clear he was all out of jokes.  "You keep saying that you’re fine, and I keep letting you, but you’re obviously not fine."

Loki blinked and let his eyes fall to where their hands were still clasped, seeming to realize only then just how tightly he was holding on.  When he went to pull his hand away, Clint’s fingers only tightened.

"Listen, I know you’re probably scared shitless over going in there," Clint said.  "I don’t blame you, Princess.  I really don’t.  They fucked you over real bad, and I know that’s not an easy thing to let go of.  I’m not expecting you to, either.  But look."  With his other hand, Clint took a firm grip on Loki’s nape, and frantic green eyes snapped up to meet his own steady gaze.  "Whatever happens in there, I’ll be right there with you.  And if they try to fuck you over again, they’re gonna have to deal with me."

Loki’s eyes widened, and he released a shaky breath even as he gave a brief nod.  Clint continued holding that poison green gaze, trying his best to reassure the god with nothing more than a look and his touch.

He hadn’t seen Loki this unsettled since their early days, when his moods were swift and mercurial, and you never quite knew how he would react to any given thing.

"Am I so transparent?" Loki whispered.  "I had hoped to at least give the impression of being calm."

"Maybe to someone that doesn’t know you as well as I do," Clint soothed.  "But you know there’s not much you can hide from _me_.  And I really wish you’d stop trying.  We’re in this together, right?”  Clint asked, searching Loki’s gaze.

When the dark god finally nodded, Clint finished, “Then let’s face it _together_.  You lean on me and I’ll lean on you, okay?”

"Yes.  Of course," Loki murmured.  "I fear that being here has caused the resurgence of old habits.  I must remember that I am no longer alone."

Clint squeezed Loki’s nape, scratching his nails over the god’s skin and biting back the snarl he wanted to voice at the mournful tone of Loki’s voice.  He hated to see him like this; struggling to hold himself together and feeling so small and lost.

Clint knew a thing or three about that feeling, and he’d give anything to keep Loki from that.

So he buried down the rage he felt at the years of treatment Loki had suffered and forced a smile.  “Nope,” he ground out.  “You’re definitely not alone.  You’ve got me in your corner.  Thor, too.”

‘ _And hopefully your mother,_ ' he added silently.

A wry smile turned up the corners of Loki’s mouth.  “Then what have I to fear?” he asked, and Clint was relieved to see the panic was slowly leaving his gaze, along with the tense line of his shoulders.

"Damn right," Clint said.  He knew full well that Loki was being sarcastic, but Clint meant every word he said.  He would hold his tongue and let Odin make whatever judgments he felt were necessary, but the moment one ill word about Loki left his mouth, Clint would let the old man have it with both barrels.  He had months of resentment built up inside, and it was just itching to be let out.

It was Loki’s amused huff that snapped Clint from his vengeful thoughts, and when he looked up, he saw only Loki’s indulgent smile.

"Always so fierce when it comes to defending my honor," he murmured, his voice pitched low, in that tone that he usually reserved for when they were alone.  "I should be discouraging you from inciting the All-Father’s ire, but I find your protectiveness… quite gratifying."

"Shut up," Clint groused, shifting his weight between his feet and casting a wary eye towards their audience.  Thor was waiting as patiently as he was able, but it was clear that if they didn’t wrap this up soon, he would be over to drag them both into the throne room.  "You can show me your gratitude all you want later.  Right now, I think your brother is going to start insisting we get on with this thing."

Loki’s eyes fell to half-mast and travelled over his leather-clad body, slowly and with no attempt at subtlety.  “I will hold you to that, my Hawk.  I have a great deal of gratitude to take out on you.”

He left Clint standing there, gaping after him with glazed eyes as he made his way back to Thor’s side, tossing a knowing smirk over his shoulder.

Clint shook his head, trying to clear away the images Loki’s words had called up in his mind.  It wouldn’t do to let the others see him flushed and wanting, but goddamn if the heat in his belly wasn’t flaring bright.  He could almost feel Loki’s hands stroking over his body; hear the panting breaths against his ear.  He bit down on the inside of his cheek, the sharp sting grounding his thoughts before they could get too far out of hand, and he hurried to catch up before he was left behind.

The sound of boot-heels echoed through the antechamber, and Clint goggled at the enormity of his surroundings.  The ceiling soared overhead; the pillars rearing up a hundred feet high and as thick as redwoods.  Everywhere he looked was gold and silk, gemstones and ivory.

"Jesus," the archer breathed, eyes wide and voice muted.  It was like being in a museum, or a cathedral; the need to be quiet and respectful an overwhelming urge.

"It is quite impressive, no?" Loki hummed.

"You could say that," Clint returned, his gaze traveling over the guards posted at every other pillar.  They were still and silent, focused on the task at hand, and showed no sign that anything out of the ordinary was happening…as if Loki returning to Asgard were simply another Tuesday to them.

"So this is where you grew up, huh?" Clint asked.  "Doesn’t look too kid-friendly."

"This is by no means the entirety of the palace," Loki replied.  "I suppose this is what you would call the ‘common area’; meant for the public to be paraded through so that they may gaze in wonder upon the home of royalty."

"Hell, if this is what you call common, I’d hate to see the fancy part," Clint chuckled.

Loki gave the archer a wry smile.  “The living quarters are far more reserved, and there are many areas that are more suited to children.  I, of course, spent a great deal of my childhood in the libraries.  Thor preferred spending his time in the sparring ring.”

"Why am I not surprised by that?"

"There is little that truly surprises you, I think," Loki answered with a fond smile.

"Well, I _was_ there to see him take out an entire S.H.I.E.L.D. base,” Clint returned.

Hearing this, Thor turned to Clint with a curious frown.  “When was this?”

"Your first trip Earth-side," Clint reminded him.  "You packed light.  Y’know, no fancy armor or lightning or… capes."

"I do not recall seeing you among the guards."

Clint smirked.  “No one thinks to look up,” he drawled.  “I had you in my sights the whole time, just waiting for the order to put an arrow in your knee.”

"You… would have _dared_ to shoot me?” Thor looked genuinely affronted at the very idea.

"Well, probably.  I mean, you _were_ kind of infiltrating a high-security facility and making a mess out of everyone that tried to stop you.”  At Thor’s stricken expression, Clint gave him a light-hearted punch to the shoulder.  “If it makes you feel any better, I was totally rooting for you.  I think Coulson was, too.”

At the mention of Coulson’s name, a heavy silence fell between the three.  Until that point, Loki had been silently — but happily — listening to the banter between his brother and his Hawk.  However, all sense of calm fled his mind at the reminder of the one thing that still caused a rift between them.

Clint had told him much about Phil Coulson, during their long talks together.  He knew the man had been the one to find him scraping a living on the streets, doing whatever he could to stay alive.  He’d seen Clint’s potential and decided to give him a chance, and in doing so, eventually brought Clint into Loki’s path.

Such a strange and winding road that had been.

Into the silence, Thor’s voice dropped like a lead weight into water.  “How fortunate for me, then,” he said, pulling both Clint and Loki from their thoughts.  “I have seen what you can do with a bow.  Perhaps, during your stay here, you would allow a demonstration of your skill and prove to some of the more hidebound among us just what you Midgardians are capable of.”

Clint cast a wary eye in his direction before looking to Loki.  “Yeah,” he agreed.  “We’ll see.”

Loki forced a smile to his face which quickly faded as Clint’s gaze slid back to Thor.  The blonde god was eagerly recounting the various aspects of the shooting range, from the long distance targets, to the magicked spheres that actively tried to avoid being hit.

As Clint fired off questions, Loki’s thoughts turned once more to Coulson.

The name was like ashes on Loki’s tongue, and the wrong he had committed against the man was one of the greatest regrets he carried.  There were times, in the dark of night as Clint lay peacefully sleeping at his side, that Loki thought of Coulson.  He wondered if, had he known how dear the man was to Clint, would he have spared him?

He’d like to think he would have.

But somewhere, in the depths of his soul, he suspected that even with that knowledge, Coulson’s end would have played out exactly the same.

He remembered how he had been, on that long ago day.  Cornered, feral, lashing out in all directions.  His plans and schemes slowly unraveling, and the fear of Thanos growing bright and sharp in his fractured mind.

No.  There was no redemption to be found in that line of thought, and that one simple choice, that one quick thrust of his spear would forever be a tarnish on his soul.

Loki watched his Hawk, deep in animated conversation with Thor, and marveled over the fact that he’d found it within himself to forgive the god for so very much.

He’d moved past the fact that Loki had taken him, much as a greedy child would scoop up a coveted possession.

He’d forgiven the caustic words he’d spewed to the spider; detailing the way he’d planned her end, and Clint’s role in such.

He’d begun mended the cracks left behind from Loki sifting through his mind and bending him to his own will.

But Coulson?

That was simply asking too much.

Loki bit back a sigh, and forced himself to focus on the task ahead.  Miring himself in regrets had never served him well, and he needed to be prepared for whatever Odin had planned for them.  As he squared his shoulders and shoved those poisoned thoughts far back into a dark corner of his mind, the vanguard turned a corner.

Just ahead lay the door to the throne room, and beyond that, an end to their journey.

Clint let out a low whistle, tilting his head back far enough to take in the enormity of the throne room doors.

"Okay, be honest with me," he said.  "Is there a reason those doors have to be so big?  Like, you really have people that big coming and going through those?"

"On occasion," Thor admitted.  "Though not for many, many years.  It is more a symbol of the vastness of the All-Father’s reach."

"Wait, seriously?  There are… people?   _That_ big?”  Clint pointed at the doors as if Thor had possibly forgotten what they were talking about.

Thor looked at him with as much amusement as he could without outright laughing at him.  “You seem surprised by this.  Surely, Loki has told you tales of the other realms?”

Suddenly, Clint decided he was done being surprised by anything anymore.  “You know what?  I’m not even mad.  Go ahead and have huge people stomping around and going through doors.  I’m fine being tiny.”

"You are hardly tiny, my Hawk," Loki drawled as he stepped between Thor and Clint.  "If there are those larger than us, there must also be those smaller."

"Yeah, I guess," was the archer’s sullen reply.  "So, how is this supposed to go down?  I mean, I’ve never met royalty before.  Not officially, anyway."

Loki and Thor both looked at him contemplatively, and if Clint didn’t know better, he would have bet money that they actually _were_ related.

"If you are worried about protocol, there is none," Loki finally said.  "You are here at the All-Father’s request, and as such, you are ill-prepared for a formal royal audience."

"Indeed," Thor agreed, giving Clint an amiable slap to the shoulder that almost knocked him over.  "Simply be yourself."

Clint was silent for a beat, and Loki sucked a quick breath through his teeth.  A smile spread across Clint’s face, and Loki looked suddenly far more worried than he had been earlier.

"When my brother says ‘be yourself’, that does _not_ mean…” Loki hurried to say.

"Too late," Clint replied loftily, cutting Loki off.  "He already said it."

Thor’s confused gaze darted from Loki to Clint and back again before he asked slowly, “Have I misspoken in some way?”

Loki turned an askance eye upon the blonde god.  “We shall see.  Perhaps Odin will find Clint’s cutting sarcasm…endearing.”  He paused for a moment before finishing flatly, “Or perhaps we will find ourselves in the dungeons before day’s end.”

The stricken look Thor turned upon Clint was enough to make the archer feel sorry for him.

"Don’t worry, Blondie," he soothed.  "I’m usually pretty good about knowing where the line is…and keeping to my side of it."

"Oh yes," Loki cut in.  "It is not as though we’ve _ever_ been ejected from a place of business thanks to you testing the line.”

"Zip it," Clint growled.  "That time at the mall doesn’t count."

"I was _speaking_ of the incident at the museum,” Loki said in a pointed tone.  “And then there was the coffeeshop?”

"That time was _your_ fault,” Clint exclaimed.

Loki narrowed his eyes, holding Clint’s glare for a long moment.  “Perhaps it was,” he allowed sullenly.

"Damn right," Clint grumbled in return.  "But no, really…give me a little credit here.  This is important, and I’m not gonna do anything to fuck it up.  As long as Odin plays nice, then I will too."

"And therein we find our problem," Loki murmured.  "I sincerely doubt that we will make it through this audience without Odin managing to trigger at least one cutting remark from you, my Hawk.  And once that dam has been breached, disaster follows."

"Well, then we might as well get to it," Clint huffed.  "After you, Princess."

The doors cracked open with a hollow booming and began to turn inward, and the throne room was slowly revealed to Clint’s curious gaze.

The first thing he noticed was the light; it seemed to come from everywhere, and nowhere at the same time.  So many gilded surfaces reflected the light back on itself, until it was difficult to find the source.  Sconces on the walls and on raised pillars that formed the path to the throne itself burned with something Clint had never seen before.  There was no smoke, and very little heat.  It was entirely possible the fire wasn’t even real.  He wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t.

Two guards stood at either side of the great doors, standing at attention.  There was no expression to be seen on their faces, and Clint wondered if this wasn’t the first time the All-Father had called for such a strange audience.

Past the guards was possibly the largest room dedicated to one chair Clint had ever seen.  Granted, it _was_ an impressive chair.

It wasn’t so much the chair itself that garnered such attention as the one seated upon it.

Clint’s first image of Odin was of a stout, battle-scarred warrior-king, white-bearded with a hard, cold fire burning in his remaining eye.  The other was covered with a golden eye-patch, but was no less intimidating because of it.  As Clint was so well aware, it was often the things _not_ seen that posed the largest threat.

The All-Father was dressed much as Thor was, leather and golden armor, and the staff which was the king’s weapon was held in his hand, resting against the floor.

It was all very impressive, and Clint might have even _been_ impressed if he wasn’t already a bit biased towards the man.  He turned to say as much to Loki, but the look on his face stopped even the thoughts in his head.

He’d never seen him like _this_ before.

Loki had steeled himself for this moment.  He’d told himself that _this_ homecoming was different; he was an invited guest, not a battered and broken captive.  That this time he was welcomed, and he would not have to weather the venomous looks of the guards and Frigga’s mournful tears.

But as the doors swung open and Odin was revealed, Loki had plummeted back into that long ago moment.

He remembered the stink of sweat and the cruel pinch of the muzzle caging his tongue.  He could feel the tremors that had run through him, causing his steps to falter.  He had been a thing made of pain and fear, and even now his heart slammed against his ribcage as anxiety flared bright within him.

A quiet whimper escaped him, then, and he found himself rooted to the floor, unable to take that first step into the throne-room.

Clint eyed Loki, a concerned cast to his features as he took in the panic brightening that green gaze.  And in a flash, he knew exactly what was going through Loki’s head.

"Hey," Clint murmured as Loki’s head snapped to the side, spearing him with a frantic glare.  "It’s ok.  This isn’t gonna be like last time.  You didn’t do anything wrong, and nobody is gonna punish you, okay?"

"You do not know that," Loki whispered in a forlorn tone.  "I may not have blood on my hands this time, but there could still be punishment ahead.  I dread a denial more than a return to Hel."

Clint winced and looked away from his god, collecting himself before he spoke.

"Look," he finally ground out, once he’d swallowed down the tightness in his throat.  "If old One-Eye over there says no, it’s _not_ the end of things.  You know that.  Thor promised as much, right?”

Loki nodded mutely.

"Then don’t let this rattle you," Clint said in a pointed tone.  "One way or another, we’ll get this done.  Sure, it’s be easier with Daddy’s blessing…but when has anything been easy for us?"

"Never," Loki replied quietly.

"Right," Clint agreed.  "And it’s probably gonna keep on that way.  So just breathe, and if nothing else good comes of this day, at least you got to pop home and visit your mom.  I know you’ve been missing her, at least."

Loki blinked back the tears that had been threatening and gave Clint a small smile.  “Yes,” he allowed.  “There is that.”

Clint had to be honest; pulling the mommy card was kind of a mean trick.  It wasn’t Loki’s fault that he was feeling the way he was feeling, but they couldn’t afford for him to fall to pieces right now.  He liked to think Loki would realize that as well, and not hold it against him that Clint was basically manipulating his state of mind.

Not that it was for Clint’s sole benefit.  He had the feeling, just looking at Odin, that there would be little room for dramatic displays of emotion.  They were there to plead a case, after all, and letting their emotions get away from them was the last thing they needed.  After all, they wanted to prove how far Loki had come from… what he’d been before.  True, he wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but neither was he unhinged and unable to be trusted.

As they approached the throne, and Odin stayed still as though carved from of stone, Clint wondered if maybe they really _had_ been summoned only to be denied.  There was no reading the All-Father’s intentions on his stoic face.

He kept shooting glances at Loki beside him, and while he saw that he’d managed to tamp down the panic, Clint saw how tense the line of his shoulders were.  It was as if he was expecting the rug to be pulled out from under his feet.

Clint knew that feeling.  He’d felt much the same when Fury had ordered him to his office after failing in his mission to bring down the Black Widow.  He knew he’d fucked up, and every step forward felt as if it was the last before the drop.

Well, that had turned out alright in the end.  Clint had every reason to think this would too.

Twenty paces away from the foot of the throne, their escort of guards suddenly peeled off in two different directions.  Clint’s eyes followed them as they disappeared into two lesser doors, one on each side of the great hall.  The two guards at the entrance pulled the doors shut behind them as they, too, left the room.  With a hollow, echoing boom, the room was empty but for the four of them.

Clint held his breath as he fought to stay still under the heavy stare of Odin All-Father.  He wished he was able to reach out and give Loki a reassuring grip on his arm or the back of his neck, and his warring instincts battled between the need for decorum and wanting to show his Princess that his Hawk was there with him.

Thor stepped forward and dropped to one knee as he inclined his head.  “Father,” he murmured.  “I have returned with Loki and his intended, as you requested.”

"I can see that," Odin replied quietly.  "Rise now, my boy.  There is no need for such formalities."

Thor pushed to his feet and stepped to Clint’s side, a sheen of confusion in his eyes.

Loki’s gaze darted from Odin to Thor and back again.  He had expected a very many things from the initial moments of this meeting, but Odin’s calm and quiet demeanor was _not_ one of them.  The dark god swallowed hard, and the moments stretched out as they all waited for the All-Father to speak.

"When Thor first came to me with this request, I will admit that I was caught by surprise," Odin began.  "I had not considered this possibility.  And yet, a part of me found the news heartening.  Being able to give and receive love?  Wanting to tie himself to someone for all of eternity?  Surely this was a sign that Loki had experienced great change within himself."

Here Odin paused, seeming to weigh his words before continuing.

"But then Thor revealed to me exactly _who_ you had chosen, Loki, and that raised questions in my mind.  Questions that required solid answers before I committed myself to offering the help you seek.”

Clint stiffened and his jaw clenched as outrage flooded through him.  They hadn’t been called to Asgard for an outright denial, or because Loki had dared to fall in love with a lowly mortal.

It was simply because it was Clint himself, and he’d be lying if he said that bit of truth didn’t sting.

"What questions do you have, All-Father?"  Loki asked hesitantly.  "We will answer them to the best of our abilities."

Clint didn’t like the way Odin’s gaze seemed to burn through him at those words, as if he could glean all his answers by staring into his mind.  Of course, Clint wouldn’t put it past him to use that ability.  He stood his ground, however, and stared evenly back, defiant as he ever was.  He’d had long practice meeting one-eyed stares.

"I see you are unused to bowing before those in power," Odin said at last, addressing Clint directly for the first time.

"I didn’t vote for you," was Clint’s reply.

Thor cast an incredulous look his way, and Loki looked as though he was biting his tongue at this little show of insolence.

"Barton!  This is the King of Asgard and Protector of the Nine Realms!  Show respect!"  Thor growled.

"Calm yourself, my son," came Odin’s slightly amused voice.  "He is not wrong.  Yes, archer, I assumed the role of Protector of the Nine Realms when I ascended to the Throne of Asgard.  I have long made it my duty to see justice done wherever it may be needed.  The same holds true, I think, for you as well, does it not?"

Clint’s jaw clenched at the insinuation that he was anything like Odin, but he answered nonetheless, his words clipped and short.  “Something like that.  I don’t let shit slide, if that’s what you mean.”

Thor sputtered to himself on the other side of Loki at the use of such language in the presence of the king, but he was the one who told Clint to be himself.  He was going to be himself all over the fucking place.  If Odin had a problem with his language, let the old guy tell him himself.

"Indeed," Odin agreed.  If anything, Clint’s blatant disregard for his title seemed to amuse him.  "I have heard many tales of your deeds, from both my son, and Heimdall, who sees all.  A great warrior, to be sure, and you fight with your whole heart; a rare thing to find in any one man.  I am glad Loki has found sanctuary in you."

Clint stayed silent; he had the feeling there was going to be quite a lengthy addendum to all this praise.

He wasn’t disappointed, as Odin leaned forward, one elbow resting on his knee as he speared Clint with his one ice-blue eye.

"Why, then, have you allowed Loki’s trespasses against you to go unpunished?"

The throne room fell as silent as a tomb as the last echoes of Odin’s question died away.

Clint looked over at Loki, and once again, he felt the overwhelming urge to reach out to him, to curb the rising anguish building in his eyes.

Turning back to face Odin’s expectant gaze, Clint said, “Loki doesn’t need to be punished for something he suffers for every second of every day.”

Obviously, Odin was not expecting that response, and he blinked and sat back in his throne.

Clint wasn’t finished, however.

"See, I know a thing or two about regrets," he went on.  "I think we all do.  One thing about them is that, when you truly regret something, not even the worst torture in the world, or the longest jail sentence, will ever be as bad as the guilt you carry for it."  Looking over at Loki, Clint’s gaze softened.  "He thinks I don’t know, that I can’t tell when he’s beating himself up over what happened.  That’s kinda my own fault, I guess.  I let him have that much.  But the truth is, I forgave him for all that a long time ago.

"I also know a thing or two about second chances.  Everyone deserves one."

Odin drew in a quick breath and his gaze slid to Loki.  The dark god’s shock at his archer’s words was apparent upon his face, and his lower lip trembled even as he swallowed harshly.  But even the surprise that gripped Loki couldn’t dampen the shine in his eyes, and within that steady gaze Odin could see pride, joy and love.

The king’s brow knitted as he thought back to the last time he had seen such a display of emotion in his youngest son.  It had been ages ago, in days long past when the boy had been but half-grown.  Before the stresses of life had hooked their claws into him; before the differences between the brothers had become so apparent.

Before Odin himself had formed the regrets he carried deep in his own heart.

"You speak a truth that I, myself, took far too long to learn, archer," Odin said, and his worn tone drew Clint’s gaze back to the King.  "It would seem that your wisdom and mercy far outweighs my own."

"Father?" Thor questioned, taking a hesitant half-step toward the throne.

Odin waved his hand before bowing his head and uttering a small sigh.  “I have done wrong in my time,” the king murmured softly, as though speaking to himself.  “And mere words cannot right these wrongs.  I made decisions based on what I thought was _best_ , but I was short-sighted; not able to see the damage that I was authoring.”

The All-Father raised his head then, his eye falling upon Loki.  “I thought I was giving you a second chance that long ago day when I plucked you from the ruined wastes of Jotunheim.  Instead, I damned you to a different sort of downfall.”

Loki stiffened under the steady gaze of the King.  All of the questions that had spilled from his lips that long ago day in the vault still roiled within him, unanswered and festering.

"Why then?" Loki asked softly.  "Why did you bring me here?  Raise me alongside Thor and lie to me about who I was; what I was meant to be?"

"The truth is a hard thing to bear," Odin began.

"As I well know," Loki cut in.  "Do I not deserve the truth, though?  We are here to answer your questions as to why we need your help.  Will you not answer mine in return?"

"Loki," Thor whispered.  "Perhaps now is not the best time to…"

"He has a right to know," Odin said.  "Simple apologies will not mend this rift, and I daresay that my explanation will do little to dispel the anger you carry in your breast, Loki.  But you will have the truth."

Odin pushed to his feet, pacing as he gathered his words.

"When I first brought you to Asgard, I did so with no more thought than you could provide a bridge between Jotunheim and this realm.  You would be raised in the ways of Asgard, and be an…ambassador, of sorts."

Loki hissed in a sharp breath from between clenched teeth, and Clint balled his fists at his sides.

"But then something unexpected happened," Odin said, pausing in mid-stride.  "As I watched you thrive…I grew to love you as if you were my own.  How could I not?  You were but an innocent; a child that loved deeply and selflessly.  And that simple truth showed me how very wrong I had been in ever thinking I could use you for my own selfish purposes.  So I abandoned my furtive plans, and as time passed, I convinced myself that should you ever learn of your true parentage, well…that would cause you great harm."

The All-Father turned his gaze back to Loki then, and the dark god was shocked to see the emotion simmering within.

"I was so very wrong," he murmured.  "I should have told you from the beginning, and then perhaps all that came after could have been avoided.  That is my regret, Loki.  That I played such a large part in your fall."

Clint held his breath as he waited for Loki’s response.  He could almost feel the air between them thrumming with the tremors wracking his body as he fought to control the rising tide of emotion Odin’s words had called up.

"My fall," Loki whispered, almost to himself.  "I was always falling, All-Father.  Before I ever knew it, I was tumbling into the abyss.  It was always meant to happen."

Loki’s words shocked Clint into action, and he took a step towards him before he could think to stop himself.  He had no idea what he would do or say, but he never got the chance to find out.  Loki’s eyes cut to his own, and whatever it was reflecting back at him stopped him cold.

"I know you do not like to hear such things, my Hawk, but there is no denying the truth," he went on.  "We all had our parts to play, but I cannot lay the blame for my actions on anyone but myself.  Yes, at one time, long ago, I _did_ blame Odin.  I blamed my brother, I blamed the Other, I blamed _you_.”

Clint flinched at that and dropped his eyes to the floor.  He would always carry a sharp splinter of guilt in his heart for the part he played in Loki’s defeat, no matter how much he rationalized it.  The things he told himself every night while lying beside Loki as he drifted off into slumber were sometimes the only reason he _could_ fall asleep next to him.  He did what he did because he _had_ to; he’d had no other choice, and no matter how much guilt he carried, it didn’t change the facts.

With a deep sigh, Loki continued.  “There were so many reasons I fell, but the true fault lay at my own feet.  I have done what I can to atone for the wrongs I have done.  As we all must.”

He fell silent then, and awaited Odin’s judgment.

The All-Father’s appraising gaze ran over Loki, taking in the squared shoulders and firm set of his youngest son’s mouth.  He felt a measure of surprise swelling in his breast.  Of all the possible responses to his confession, this was _not_ the one he had expected.

"You are much changed from the last time we met," Odin mused.  "And what has caused this change, I wonder?"

His piercing stare slid to Clint, then, and a small smile plucked at the corner of the king’s mouth.  “Do you love him, archer?” Odin asked suddenly.  “Enough to forsake your mortal life and stand beside him for all eternity?”

"I do," Clint answered simply.

"Why?  What has moved you to love that which nearly destroyed you?"

"Might as well ask me why my eyes are blue," Clint shrugged.  "Love’s funny that way.  It sorta sneaks in and makes itself at home when you’re not paying attention.  I can’t pick apart what Loki and I have to show you the why and when and how.  I just know that I want to be with him.  Forever."

Odin nodded and swung his gaze to Loki.  “And you love him in return?”

"Yes," Loki breathed.  "Wholly and completely."

"I will ask you the same question.  Why?"

Loki glanced at Clint, his mouth curving into a soft smile as he murmured, “He brings me joy in all that he does, and he makes me wish to be…better.  I started my time in Midgard with no other wish than to befriend my Hawk and atone for my wrongs against him.  He instead offered me so much more.  In a way, I think we have healed one another of our ills; _saved_ one another.”

"Now you’re making my answer look _really_ bad,” Clint grinned.

"And that is why I am the wordsmith," Loki teased in return.

Odin watched carefully as they spoke, noting the shine in their eyes and the soft way they looked upon one another.  His smile widened and the king slowly descended the stairs leading to the throne.  He stepped to Loki, and reached out a hesitant hand to briefly cup the dark god’s cheek.  Loki’s eyes drifted shut at the touch, and he sighed.

"So be it, then," Odin stated and took both Loki and Clint’s hands in a firm grip before linking the two together.  "Let none tear asunder that which the Universe has seen fit to connect.  You have my blessing, and my help in this matter."

Loki’s breath hitched in his throat as Thor whooped in joy.  And the a quiet, melodic voice spoke from behind them.

“ _Finally_ ,” said Frigga.

Clint startled and turned to see a tall, stately woman in shimmering gold and flowing blue approaching them, heels clicking ever so slightly against the floor.  From her proud bearing, Clint knew without even asking that this was Queen Frigga.  The smile she bestowed spilled into her eyes, which seemed overbright almost to the point of tears.  It seemed to be meant for Loki, as her eyes never left his face as she drew near.

Odin sighed indulgently and moved away from the two of them as Frigga took his place, her eyes dropping to where their hands were still clasped.  Clint looked down, as if just realizing that they were once _again_ holding hands, then looked up at each of the others in the room, eyes widening as a sudden realization occurred to him.

"Did… did we just get married?" he blurted.

Loki shot him such an incredulous look that Thor couldn’t help but burst into surprised laughter, both at Clint’s question and Loki’s reaction.

Frigga turned her smile to him, then, and rested her hand against Clint’s cheek.  It was such a motherly gesture that Clint didn’t even think to pull away.

"Indeed not," she said.  "Royal weddings in Asgard are weeks-long affairs, and are much more of a spectacle than _this_.  I’m sure there will be time enough for that later.”

Loki’s fingers suddenly tightened around Clint’s.

When Frigga looked to her youngest son, something in her smile changed, her eyes softened, and this time Clint was sure he saw tears building.

“ _Loki_ ,” she breathed as she slid her arms around his neck and pulled him into her tight embrace.

Clint released his hand and watched as he wrapped his arms around her, gently, as he thought he might hurt her with his touch.

"Hello, Mother," he murmured into her hair.  His eyes squeezed shut, but not before Clint saw the beginnings of his own tears.

The throne room was silent for a long moment as mother and son held one another.  Clint glanced over at Thor, noting the smile softening the Thunderer’s face and he couldn’t help but mirror it in return.  Thirty minutes ago he’d been nearly jumping out of his skin, convinced that they were marching toward their doom.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Odin cleared his throat and Frigga sighed as she reluctantly released her hold on Loki.  The queen stepped back slightly, looking the dark god up and down before nodding slightly.

"Love agrees with you," she said with a smile.  "You are much changed from the last time I laid eyes upon you."

"It does," Loki agreed.  "And I am.  In all ways.  I had hoped to see you here, so that you could bear witness to the man I have become."

"As if your Father could keep me away," Frigga laughed.  "He barely managed to convince me to stand by idly while he asked his questions.  Never has such a short period of time seemed so very long."

A smile plucked at the corner of Loki’s mouth, then, and he murmured, “You have always done what you want, Mother…much to Father’s consternation.”

"So _that_ ’ _s_ where you get it from,” Clint chuckled.

"And _you_ ,” Frigga exclaimed, turning her gaze upon Clint.  “You are the one I have been waiting _eons_ to meet.”

"Me?" Clint asked, confusion evident on his face.  "Why?  What did I do?"

"Only the single greatest thing that a mother could hope for," Frigga answered.  "You have shown my child the wonders of love; you have healed his heart and made him whole."

"Oh.  Well, you’re welcome, then," Clint said sheepishly.

Frigga laughed merrily and threw her arms around the archer, drawing him into a tight embrace.  “You are well met, Clint Barton.  Well met and welcomed into the house of Odin.”

Clint went still as stone as he felt Frigga’s arms wrap around him.

It had been a long time since he’d felt a mother’s embrace, so long he couldn’t even remember what it felt like.  Feeling it now, it was hard to believe he could ever have forgotten it.

Something crooked inside him seemed to snap back into place, so sudden and sharp that it almost hurt, cutting off his air.

Frigga seemed to sense the reason behind Clint’s reluctance to return her embrace, but rather than release him, she only held him tighter.  After a moment, Clint lifted his numb arms and brought them around her back, his fingers clutching at the back of her gown as if to anchor himself.

"Thanks," he finally managed to say, and for a wonder, his voice sounded mostly normal, if a bit more subdued.

Then Frigga pulled back, her face shining with happiness.  “It is we who should be thanking you, but I sense that you are uncomfortable enough with such sentiment.  Let me simply say that I am glad to have finally met you.”

Clint’s eyes went from Frigga to Loki, and something about the way he was looking at him told him he was both happy and troubled at the same time.  There was a shadow behind his eyes, something Clint hadn’t seen in a very long time, but he would be damned if he could figure out why it was there.

They’d gotten what they’d come for and then some.  Clint had been prepared for a struggle, at least a verbal sparring match between Odin and himself, but that hadn’t happened, which could only be a good thing.  Not only did they get the help they needed, but also the blessing of the family Loki had thought lost to him for an eon.

Why, then, was there still that sliver of angst behind the veneer of happiness?

Clint knew one thing for sure; now was the exact _wrong_ time to ask.

Loki could nearly feel the waves of emotion coming off Clint as Frigga held the archer in her arms.  After the confusion and hesitancy burned away, the way he sagged into her embrace told Loki all that he needed to know about what was going through Clint’s head.

They had discussed their respective families numerous times, and while Clint had always been concise in the telling, Loki knew that losing his parents at such a young age had stolen a great many things from his archer.

Granted, Clint’s father had been a drunken lout, and he wasn’t shy about saying so.  But his mother?  He’d been excessively tight-lipped about her.

Loki watched as Clint’s hands crept up to grip the material of Frigga’s gown tightly, and Loki was struck with the knowledge of exactly how much his Hawk missed his own mother.

He struggled to cage the wave of emotion that crashed through him then, fighting the sting of tears as Frigga released Clint from her embrace.  The archer turned his gaze upon Loki and frowned lightly at the dark god’s expression.

Loki knew then that he could no more hide this from him than he could anything else.

"Well then," Odin stated.  "Now that _that_ ’ _s_ been set to rest, I suppose arrangements must be made.”

Clint had nearly forgotten that the All-Father was present, so caught up in the greeting from Frigga and the strange look in Loki’s eyes.

"Arrangements?" he echoed, turning to face the king.  "For what, exactly?"

"For your transformation, of course," Frigga answered.  "It will not be easy, I’m afraid, as the apples were never meant for mortal consumption."

Clint’s brow furrowed and he looked from Odin to Frigga and back again.  “Loki said that this has been done before, though.  Right?”

"Yes," Odin replied.  "But not for an age.  There is little about this situation that is common…but we have the means to see it done."

"Should I be worried?" he asked.

"Not overly so," Frigga soothed.  "Much like anything else worth having, the road to this will be difficult, but the rewards many."

"Oh _good_ ,” Clint muttered. “It sure _sounds_ like I should be worried.”

For the first time since Loki had offered Clint this choice, he wondered what exactly it was going to do to him.  Obviously, there would have to be a catch; he doubted it would be as simple as taking a bite out of a piece of fruit.  It was going to _change_ him, from the inside out, and turn him into something other than human.

What that would be, he still didn’t know, and no one had seen fit to tell him.

"I would not let you do this if I had any doubts," Loki said quietly.  He gave Clint a small smile that he was sure was meant to soothe him.  "You are the strongest mortal I have ever known; you will come out of this even stronger."

Clint knew Loki wasn’t talking about physical strength, although he probably wouldn’t be lying if he was.

"So, worrying aside — because I _am_ , I don’t care what any of you say — what are these arrangements?” he asked.  “Not to sound ungrateful, but it’s not gonna take very long, is it?  ‘Cause… I kinda told my boss I’d be back to work on Monday.”

Frigga and Odin shared a glance laced with honest confusion; Loki closed his eyes briefly and let out a tiny sigh.  In the end, it was Thor who answered his question.

"My friend, this will not be an easy trial," he said, stepping closer until Clint had to tilt his head up to look at him.  "Moons will wax and wane before your transformation will be complete.  It is not something that can be rushed."

Clint blinked, absorbing this new information.  “Huh,” he said thoughtfully.  “I should probably tell them I won’t be in for a while.”

"I shall return to Midgard and inform your commander Fury," Thor rumbled.  "It is the least I could do."

"Hold up a minute, there, Goldilocks," Clint huffed.  "I appreciate the offer…but Fury can’t know _why_ I’m here.”

Thor’s brow knit in confusion.  “Why?” he asked.

"Because Fury is a manipulative, furtive little man," Loki growled.  "And he will find a way to use Clint’s transformation to his own advantage!"

"I…had not considered that," Thor answered softly.  "What should I tell Fury, then?  I fear I am not well-versed in the twisting of the truth."

"You are a _terrible_ liar, Thor,” Loki stated firmly.  “But he must be told _something_ , so as to set his mind to ease concerning Clint’s absence.”

The dark god sighed, throwing a quick glance Clint’s way before he finished, “I cannot speak to Fury, as he will be circumspect of anything I have to say in the matter.  And Clint has asked that I keep my distance from S.H.I.E.L.D. as a whole.”

"Damn straight," Clint said.  "I wouldn’t put it past them to try and hold onto you."

"What better way to draw you out of hiding?" Loki murmured.  "They know that if they dared try such a thing, you would soon come to my aid."

"Then what are we to _do_?” Thor questioned.

"I believe I have the answer," Odin said quietly.

All eyes turned to the king, taking in the steely resolve in his singular gaze.

"And what might that be?" Loki asked carefully.

“ _I_ will speak to Fury on your behalf,” the king intoned.  “I had dealings with the man after Loki’s attempt to rule.  As such, he is familiar with the futility of trying to attain answers I do not wish to give.”

"But what _reason_ will you give?” Loki asked.  “Fury will not be satisfied without a reason.”

"Simply that I commanded such," Odin replied.  "I felt it was time to learn more of our Midgardian neighbors, and a mortal diplomat was needed.  The archer was chosen on Thor’s suggestion, and due to his closeness with Loki.  Fury will not be privy to any information beyond that, and he will not question my decree on the grounds that to do so may spark an inter-realm disagreement.  One which your world would quickly lose."

"Well, damn," Clint chuckled.  "Looks like you’ve got him over a barrel, then."

"Precisely," Odin agreed.  "Your Fury may not be happy with what I have to tell him, but he is bound from _doing_ anything about it.”

"Thanks," Clint said.  "I appreciate it."  He swung his gaze to Thor then, a grin plucking at the corner of his mouth.  "And if you really want to do me a favor, Blondie, I’ve got one for you."

"Anything, Clint Barton," Thor answered solemnly.  "Simply ask and I shall comply."

"If you’re still up for popping back to Midgard, could you swing by our apartment for me and turn off the coffee-pot?   _Pretty_ sure I left it on since we were in such a rush to get here.”

Loki snorted in amusement and Thor shook his head ruefully.  “Of course,” the Thunderer rumbled.  “‘Tis no trouble at all.”

Clint nodded his thanks, more than a little overwhelmed that the Royal Family of Asgard was willing to do him such petty favors as turning off his coffee pot and vouching for his extended leave of absence.

If he was honest, the whole thing was overwhelming him, and for the first time, he allowed himself to absorb all that was happening.

It was finally happening.  The long nights of worrying and planning and waiting had come to an end.  It was almost dizzying to have everything wrapped up so neatly.

And therein lay the largest problem.  Nothing had _ever_ wrapped up neatly for Clint; when it did, it didn’t take long for the other shoe to drop.  He’d learned to distrust such scenarios, no matter how they came about.

"Something still troubles you, does it?" Frigga asked.

Clint looked up to see her watching him closely, with a knowing tilt of her eyebrows that told him he had better tell the truth.

"Not… really," he answered.  It wasn’t quite a lie, but it was far from the whole truth.

"Clint?" Loki questioned, and now he was getting the concerned look from _him_ too.

"Look, I’m not… it’s not like I’m having second thoughts, okay?" Clint huffed.  "I guess I’m just not used to this."

"To what?" Frigga asked with a tiny laugh.

Clint opened his mouth to answer, but shut it again before he said more than he felt he should.  He wasn’t used to _this_ , either, having people genuinely care about what was troubling him.  Looking from one face to another, Clint saw nothing but curiosity and concern, and more than a bit of both from Loki.

"To people giving a damn," he finally managed to say.

Frigga patted his arm before taking hold of his wrist, giving him an indulgent smile.  “Surely this is not the first time,” she said.

"No," Clint admitted.  "Not the first, but they’re pretty few and far between."  And there Clint decided he should just stop talking before they started thinking he as a pity case.

Frigga hooked her arm through Clint’s and turned him toward the entryway.  “There are some people who simply do not know how to value those around them,” she said warmly as began to walk.  “And then there are those that are too cold to even consider the feelings of others.  You needn’t fear such treatment at our hands, archer.”

"Yeah, you’ve sort of proved that so far," Clint admitted.

"Even as you have proved yourself to us," Frigga said in a pointed tone.  "When Thor first carried the tale that Loki had opened his heart to another, I longed to meet the person who had inspired him to love.  I knew that you would be a special sort, indeed."

"Now you’re just flattering me," Clint replied sheepishly.

"Not in the least," Frigga soothed.  "Thor told me as much of you as he knew, at my insistence, of course.  And I must say that he made you out to be _quite_ impressive.”

Is that so?” Clint mused and cast a glance over his shoulder to see Thor and Loki trailing behind by a few paces.  “What _exactly_ did you tell her, Blondie?”

"Simply of your loyalty, and fearlessness," Thor answered.  "Of your skill with a bow, and your quick-witted nature."  The Thunder god paused there before finishing with a grin, "And your devotion to my brother, of course."

"He left out the part about how sarcastic I am," Clint chuckled as he turned back to the Queen.  "And I can be sorta full of myself, too."

"Then you shall truly fit in here," Frigga laughed.  "Now come along.  You’ve traveled a fair distance, and I’m sure you’re hungry.  Let a mother do what she does best and provide nourishment.  After that, you can explore the grounds to your heart’s content."

"I could eat," Clint said.  "All we’ve had this morning was some toast, and I burned that off pretty much immediately."

Loki uttered a small, choked noise; half amusement and half indignation.

"What?" Clint questioned in an innocent tone.  "Toast is more of an appetizer, really."

Loki clenched his eyes shut for a moment before leveling a stern glare Clint’s way.

"Did Thor mention I can be a bit of a brat?" Clint asked Frigga earnestly.

"That does not surprise me in the least," Frigga hummed.

After leaving the throne room, Frigga took them through a smaller archway, one that Clint had seen on the way in but had ignored in favor of the enormous double doors at the end of the hall.  It was smaller, by Asgardian standards, and there were far more people coming and going.  As had happened before on their journey to the palace itself, people paused in their tasks and conversation as the small group passed, and Clint couldn’t help but feel a bit self-conscious under their scrutiny.

"So what’s with all the hairy eyeballs?" Clint asked, pitching his voice low so as not to carry to curious ears.

Frigga and Thor both gave him strange looks at the unfamiliar slang before taking in the attention they had gathered.  True, nearly every face was turned their way, some more discreet than others, but no one other than Clint seemed to be concerned.

"Perhaps they are merely jealous that you have such a stunning escort, Mother," Loki said, and there was just the slightest hint of venom in his voice.

Clint tossed a smirk over his shoulder.  “You’re just sore that she beat you to it, Princess.”  Loki scowled and glared over their heads, but didn’t argue.  “Now you’re pouting,” Clint informed him.

With a sigh, Loki locked eyes with his Hawk before plastering on the fakest smile Clint had ever seen.

"Come now, my son, there is no need for that," Frigga chided.  Somehow, without even looking, she’d managed to see everything.  "You will have all the time in the universe to walk beside each other.  Let your mother have but a few brief moments."

Loki’s face softened into a more genuine smile at that.  Or perhaps it was merely Frigga’s choice of words, reminding him of the family he had regained.  Either way, it made Clint feel better, and the exchange had done a good job of distracting him from the eyes watching their every move.  There was no way he could ignore them completely; his training and instincts as a sniper would never allow him to disregard being so exposed, but at least they no longer felt like a threat.

"Mother," Thor spoke up.  "There is a matter that perhaps you could shed some light upon."

"What might that be?" Frigga asked lightly.

"As we approached the palace, we crossed one of your wards.  Clint Barton was able to sense it.  Have you ever encountered such a thing?"

Frigga turned a curious eye to Clint, and he caught a glimpse of the shrewd, calculating Queen she was beneath the tenderhearted mother.

"Indeed?" she contemplated.  "Now that _is_ interesting.”

"Good interesting or bad interesting?" Clint asked slowly.

"Both and neither," Frigga answered cryptically before asking a question of her own.  "Tell me.  What did you _feel_ when crossing the ward?”

"It sorta…tickled, I guess," Clint replied.  "I felt a vibration, but it seemed to come from _inside_ me.  Made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.”

"And that was the extent of it?"

"Yeah," Clint huffed.  "But from what _those_ two had to say, I shouldn’t have been able to feel anything, right?”

"Not necessarily," Frigga answered.  "Those that mean us harm feel far more than a ‘tickle’ when they encounter the ward.  It serves to incapacitate our enemies, and allows the guards time to deal with them.  Had you held any ill-will against us, then you would have felt something far more powerful."

"Huh," Clint mused.  "That’s actually…really useful."

"Are you sensitive in any other way, archer?" Frigga asked.

"Sensitive is not a word people usually apply to me," Clint chuckled.

"She does _not_ mean emotionally, my Hawk,” Loki murmured.

"Oh.  Well, no then."

"Thor has told me of your skill with a bow.  Of your ability to hit a target without so much a glance in the proper direction," Frigga offered.  "Do you not count that as a sensitivity?"

Clint was silent for a long moment before answering.  “I never really thought of it that way.  Just chalked it up to years of practice.  Muscle memory, really.  Nothing special.”

Frigga uttered a melodic laugh.  “My dear boy, saying that there is nothing special about you is like saying that the Yggdrasil is a mere sapling.  Do you _truly_ not know you have a spark of magic in your soul?”

"I guess I didn’t con….wait.  I have _what_?” Clint choked out.

"Magic," Frigga answered simply.  "I could tel from the moment I laid eyes upon you.  Granted, such things were lost to your realm _ages_ ago; called science and skill by those that did not believe.  But it is within you, Clint Barton, sure as I am Queen of this realm.”

"So… you can tell that?" Clint asked.  "How?"

Frigga smiled and patted his arm.  “For someone to whom magic is as natural as breathing?  It is no hard feat, I could feel it in you from the first moment I touched you.”

Clint looked down at himself, as if there was some kind of mark flashing like a beacon on his chest.  Frigga chuckled lightly at his incredulous reaction, but Clint was honestly taken aback by the suggestion.  Never once had it occurred to him that his natural talents might be the result of other forces at work within him.

Looking back over his shoulder at Loki, he asked, “Did you know?”

Loki took his time with his answer, which was telling in itself.  Eventually, he said, “I have long thought there was more to you than simple skill, Clint.  There was no way for me to know, however.  Not with my own powers dampened.”

Clint turned forward again, eyes fixed unseeing at the stonework of the floor, and mulled over what he’d been told.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about this new revelation.  For so long, he’d depended on his own skill, falling back on talents he’d _thought_ were natural until a few moments ago, often gambling his life on them.  His ability to hit anything he was aiming at — and even some that he _wasn’t_ — had never struck him as strange.

Well, now it seemed as though that wasn’t entirely true.

"Clint?" Loki’s quiet voice pulled him from his thoughts.  "You do realize this is far from a misfortune, yes?"

Clint mentally shook himself free of the deeper implications, flashing Loki a smirk over his shoulder.  “Nah, I got that.  You’d think I’d be used to being different by now.”

Loki gave a small smile in return, but Clint had the feeling there would be more to be said when they were alone once again.

That would have to wait until after his major freak-out, because it had been building since they arrived on the Bifrost.

Loki fell back a few steps, allowing Clint and Frigga to continue their exchange.  Thor kept pace at his side, silent for a long moment before he cleared his throat.  Loki glanced over at his brother, noting the troubled set of his brow.

"You have something you wish to say?" Loki asked expectantly.

"I am simply wondering how your archer came by his magic.  And how he has gone a mortal lifetime unaware."

"It is as Mother said," Loki said, his voice pitched low to keep the conversation between them.  "Magic has become a…recessive ability for mortals.  There are more than a handful that possess it, and far fewer that know."

"Strange that you would find yourself drawn to one that harbors such power," Thor murmured.

"And what, _precisely_ , do you mean by that?” Loki asked waspishly.

Thor raised his hands in a placating gesture.  “I meant no harm, brother.  Just…do you think that is what ignited the spark between you?”

"Like calls to like," the dark god murmured.  "It is not outside the realm of possibilities."

The brothers fell silent as they traversed the remaining distance to the kitchens, each lost in their own thoughts as Frigga chattered brightly to Clint.

As the queen swept into the kitchen and ushered her three charges to a long table, the workers stopped their bustling and bowed low.  Frigga clapped her hands merrily and called, “No need for formality, ladies!  My boys have returned home, and they have brought their appetites.”

"Looks like they brought more than that," one of the cooks chuckled as she set a steaming pot on the table.  "And who is this fine young man?  An honored guest, I would assume?"

"Most honored, indeed," Frigga smiled, casting a soft look Clint’s way.  "Audr, may I present the mortal, Clint Barton.  He is Loki’s intended."

A collective gasp rippled through the troupe of serving girls and kitchen drudges, and Clint cast a wary eye over the group as the whispers and giggles followed soon after.  Almost as one, the women converged on him, so suddenly that Clint took a step back.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, completely unprepared for the invasion.  "Whoa, ladies, hold up!"  He threw a helpless look back at Loki, who was watching the scene with entirely too much amusement.  Seeing no help coming from that particular quarter, he instead turned to Frigga.

The queen was smiling fondly as the girls surrounded him, whispering gossip Clint could only hear in snippets.

"The archer Thor spoke of!"  "He’s Midgardian?  I don’t believe—!"  "Are they all as handsome, I wonder?"  "I heard he slew a _hundred_ Chitauri!”  “It’s more every time you tell it!”  “Not so!”

It went on in that vein for a few moments before there was a loud _clang!_ from the table.  The cook, Audr as Frigga had called her, held a large ladle against the pot she had set out.  Her round face was set in a stern scowl, and the girls surrounding Clint suddenly lowered their heads and fell quiet, taking a few steps back until he felt he could breathe again.

"That is quite enough!" she intoned.  "We are not tavern wenches and scullery maids, and we do not behave as such!"

A round of apologies to Queen Frigga and Clint himself were muttered before the girls took themselves back into the cooking area, all the while under the stern glare of the cook.

"No discipline," Audr muttered, seemingly to herself, before turning to Frigga.  "It was much quieter when I was allowed to beat them with this."  She held up the ladle as if it were a weapon, inspecting it shrewdly.

Clint was taken aback by her words until he heard Frigga’s amused chuckle.  “A rap across the knuckles _hardly_ counts as a beating, Audr,” she said, making her way to the head of the table.

"Ask yon boys if _they_ believe that,” Audr said, sending a mock glare in Thor and Loki’s direction and pointing at them with her ladle.

Clint’s eyes might be slowly failing, but he didn’t miss the way Thor’s hands balled into fists, or the way Loki avoided making eye contact with anyone.

"Seriously?" Clint asked as his mouth slowly curved into a grin.  "Two of the most powerful guy I’ve ever run across…and you’re spooked by a _ladle_?”

Thor scowled in Clint’s direction, and Loki continued pretending to study the exposed beams of the kitchen ceiling.

"Jeez, Audr," Clint chuckled.  "You must be a beast with that thing."

"A necessary evil when the princes come to raid my larder, Master Barton," the cook sniffed.  "Their appetites when young, if left unchecked, would have put us into the land of famine."

Clint cast his gaze around, taking in the barrels, sacks and brimming shelves.  Bunches of herbs hung along the walls, and multiple loaves of fresh baked bread cooled on large racks near the ovens.

"Looks like you’re pretty well stocked these days," he observed.

"Until the next banquet," Audr replied.  "Although, should the crown prince find himself in need of a late night snack, then all you see will be laid to waste."

Thor sputtered out a denial, and the cook’s stern countenance gave way to merry laughter.  Frigga joined in a moment later, and even Loki huffed in amusement.

"Nay," Audr chuckled.  "It has been an age since I have had to rap the knuckles of a greedy young prince, looking to gorge himself on pastries. _"_ She smiled fondly then, as she looked over Thor and Loki in turn.  “I must say that I do miss those days, though.  Kept me on my toes, they did.”

"Sounds like you know a few good stories about these two," Clint prodded and ignored the twin glares he felt coming from the princes of Asgard.

"That I do," Audr agreed.  "But now is not the time for tales.  Sit and let me do my job; which is to sate your appetites.  Perhaps later I shall tell you of the time Loki fell into the grape press."

"You did what now?" Clint asked the dark god, blinking in confusion.

"Fell into the grape press," Loki echoed in a thoroughly unamused tone.

"Oh Jesus," the archer snorted.  "Bet _that_ was fun.”

"Hardly," Loki huffed.  "I was stained purple for _days_.”

"My favorite color," Clint grinned.

It wasn’t difficult for Clint to picture a tiny, unhappy Loki, dripping purple grape juice as he ran through the grand halls of the palace, perhaps trailed by a thoroughly amused Thor and gathering attention from everyone on the way.

His thoughts were broken by a hand that gripped his shoulder and steered him to the seat at the Queen’s side, nearly shoving him down onto the long bench.  Clint took the hint and sat, while Thor strode to Frigga’s other side, and Loki took the seat beside him.  A quick glance at his face told Clint that whatever pensiveness he might have been feeling had, for now, at least, been set aside for another time.

Audr herself served them, muttering the whole while about gossiping and rumor-mongering serving girls.  Frigga smiled indulgently as the round little woman ladled something Clint could only assume was stew into the shallow plate in front of him.  It looked nothing like any kind of food he’d ever seen, but it didn’t look at all bad.

It was as he was staring a lump of something he could only surmise was some kind of space potato that Frigga spoke up.

"Come now, Clint Barton," she said, pulling him from his studious contemplations.  "Ease a mother’s curiosity, and tell me something of your time with Loki."

"Uh…," Clint trailed off as he tried to think of something he could safely discuss in polite company.  He looked to Loki for a hint, only to find him gazing back, chin in hand, and a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Yes, my Hawk, do tell Mother of our _time_ together,” he drawled.

Clint’s foot itched to kick Loki in the shin, and he nearly bit his tongue in half to keep the cutting remarks to himself.  Loki merely raised an eyebrow at him, waiting expectantly.

 _Okay, fine,_ Clint thought to himself.

Turning to Frigga, he gave her his most charming smile and asked, “Have you ever heard of a toaster?”

The small, quick intake of breath from Loki was a sure sign that the god was less than pleased Clint had chosen _that_ particular story.

 _Serves him right for being a brat_ , Clint thought smugly as Frigga cocked her head, giving him a curious look.

"I’m afraid I haven’t," the queen said.  "Do enlighten me, archer."

"It’s a machine that heats bread, mother," Thor cut in.  "When done, the bread is crisp on the outside, and most mortals slather it in butter, sometimes with jelly."

Clint touched his forefinger to his nose, grinning all the while.  “That’s exactly right, big guy.  Only your brother skipped a step and put the butter on _first_.  Totally set off the smoke alarm and half melted the damn toaster.”

"I did _not_ melt _anything_ ,” Loki muttered darkly.  “You are exaggerating.”

"I am?" Clint questioned.  "So we didn’t have to go buy a new toaster after airing out the apartment?"

"There _may_ have been some smoke,” Loki sniffed.  “And the machine was rendered…unusable.  But not _melted_!”

"Okay, fine," Clint allowed.  "You didn’t melt the toaster itself…just most of its insides.  Happy?"

"Marginally," Loki intoned.  "Although we _agreed_ to never speak of that again.”

"I didn’t agree to any such thing," Clint said blithely.  He took a bite of his stew, chewed and swallowed before finishing.  "That was all you."

Loki scowled impressively at his Hawk and then shook his head.  “So rude,” he chided.  “Perhaps I should tell mother how you nearly tumbled from your horse?  And all thanks to your wayward cloak.”

"No skin off my nose," Clint shrugged.  "I’m used to falling off things."

Frigga chuckled lightly, her gaze darting between the two as they bickered.  There was a fondness to their words that bespoke of a deep connection and the small jabs carried no real heat.

Her heart swelled in her chest as she noted the shine in Loki’s eyes; the soft way he looked at the archer, and she realized that this was what she had hoped for all along.

Loki had given over his heart, and had found that measure of happiness that he’d been missing for so very long.

The rest of the meal passed by quickly as Frigga kept asking for more tales of domestic life in Midgard.  Clint took more than a little delight in trying to embarrass Loki with his many awkward attempts to assimilate, and Loki likewise took great pleasure in recounting all the various ways Clint had managed to hurt himself, wither in the line of duty or simply going about his daily business.

Eventually, they got on the subject of the battle of Manhattan, and Thor was able to join in the conversation.

"I’m sure it was _well_ over a hundred Chitauri,” Thor said.  “Your bow served you well that day.”

"Yeah, probably," Clint agreed.

Frigga’s eyebrows raised at the flippant tone of the archer’s voice, as if slaying so many enemies was an every day affair.

"I can say with absolute surety that my Hawk’s aim was not suffering in the least," Loki said with a rueful smile, swirling his spoon in the remnants of his meal.

Clint looked over at him, noting the subdued slope of his shoulders, and a shadow crossed his face before he could think to hide it.

Frigga sensed the change that had come over the conversation, eyes darting between the two of them.  She had known there must be some unresolved issues still hanging above their heads; it would be strange if there were not.  She held her silence, however, and waited to see what would come of it.

It was Clint who broke the silence first.

"You know I did what I had to," he said.  It was easy to hear the weight of those words in his voice.

"Yes," Loki agreed.  "We all do what we must."  He still hadn’t looked up from his plate.

Clint’s jaw clenched at the hollow note in his voice and didn’t say any more.

"Come now," Frigga said gently.  "There is no need to lose yourself in dark memories.  What _was_ is past, and you would do well to look forward, instead.”

Loki lifted his gaze to Frigga and let a small smile pluck at the corner of his mouth.  “How _do_ you always seem to know my thoughts?” he asked.

"A mother knows," Frigga sniffed as she placed her napkin across her bowl and pushed to her feet.  She stepped behind Loki, wrapping her arms about his shoulders and leaning her head against his.

"This is a day for celebration, my boy, and I’ll not have any sadness.  You are home; within my reach, and well loved by more than just your archer.  That alone should lift your spirits."

Loki raised his hand and gripped Frigga’s forearm as his eyes drifted shut.  He breathed in her familiar scent and let his mind wander back to when he was young; falling asleep to the sound of her voice and the essence of lavender that she always wore.

"You are correct…as always," he sighed.  "It is difficult, though."

"Of course it is," Frigga murmured.  "Change of any sort always is…even if it is something you have chased after.  And regrets do not die easily, no matter how much you wish it so."

Loki nodded briefly, and Frigga unwound one arm from around the dark god, placing her hand upon Clint’s nape.  “I have faith that you two will see your way through this.  You have overcome much already in the service of your love, and this shall be no different.”

She turned her gaze to Clint, then, asking, “Do you doubt me?”

Clint swallowed hard before answering in a low tone.  “No Ma’am.  Not at all.”

Frigga’s hand on the back of his neck was a comforting weight, but Clint didn’t want to get too used to the feeling.  The Queen had no doubt accepted him into her family as easily as she had accepted Loki long before, but for Clint, it was like fighting against a relentless current.  Sure, it would be easier to go with it, but that didn’t mean it was safer.

He’d had a family once and lost it.  He’d tried for another, and it almost killed him.  S.H.I.E.L.D. had, at one point, counted as a family for him, but that had disappeared when he first discovered he’d been lied to.

Clint and families didn’t really work out, it seemed.

He wished it wasn’t so, that he could allow himself this one thing.  For a while, it might even be nice.

The inevitable ruin, however, would only be that much more painful when it finally did come.  He’d rather not fool himself into thinking it was something he could have.

A gentle squeeze to Clint’s nape snapped him back from his thoughts, and only then did he realize Loki’s eyes were on him.  He wondered if his thoughts had been showing on his face again, and if so just how much had Loki been able to guess.  The last thing he wanted was to give him even _more_ to worry about, and Clint’s hang-ups weren’t even worth the effort to frown over.

"Well," Frigga said into the strained silence, "I believe it is time for Loki to give our guest a tour of the palace.  I’m sure it will be quite some time before all of the arrangements are made.  You can use that time to perhaps gain a better understanding of our ways."

Clint blinked and looked between Frigga and Loki, trying to keep his confusion from showing too obviously.

"How long _is_ it going to take?” he asked.  “And what exactly are the arrangements.  You keep telling me not to worry, but…”

"This is not a gift freely given," Frigga replied softly.  "If it were, the line of supplicants seeking immortality would stretch across our realm.  The time it takes is not easily measurable, and will, for the most part, depend upon you.  As for the arrangements themselves?  Some are simple.  Some more difficult."

"I’m not gonna have to like…go on a quest or anything, am I?" Clint asked in a hesitant tone.

"In that I am unsure, archer," Frigga chuckled as she slid her fingers up from Clint’s nape to ruffle through his hair.  "But it is a possibility.  Once you have visited the soul forge, and formally pledged yourself to my son, then you must speak with Idunn, and she will determine what you must do in order to prove your worth."

Loki uttered a small sigh at Frigga’s words, and Clint’s gaze moved to the dark god.

"That didn’t sound like a good noise," Clint prodded.  "Something you aren’t telling me, Princess?"

"Idunn and Loki have a…strained relationship," Thor said as Loki studiously avoided the archer’s curious stare.

"Oh, do they now?" Clint asked.  "What exactly do you mean by ‘strained’?

"It was ages ago," Loki murmured.  "And I made my amends.  Surely Idunn cannot still hold bitterness in her heart?"

"She no longer uses your name as a curse," Thor offered.  "But I do not doubt that you will have difficulties in attaining her assistance."

“ _Wonderful_ ,” Loki intoned.

Clint’s brow furrowed as he watched the back and forth between the gods.  He was curious to know _exactly_ what Loki had done to earn Idunn’s wrath, but something told him he’d be better off asking on another day.

"Idunn may still hold a bit of ill will in regards to you, my son.  But she is just, and carries no animosity toward your archer," Frigga soothed.  "And remember, you have the support of the All-Father.  I believe that she can be swayed."

"Let us hope," Loki murmured.

Clint’s confusion was quickly turning into frustration, until the urge to fling things from the table was nearly overwhelming.  Instead, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the beginnings of the headache he could feel beginning to pulse behind his eyes.

Three pairs of eyes (four, if one counted the unobtrusive Audr still hovering in the background) turned to look at him.

"I’m sure there’s a bunch of history between you and this Idunn chick," Clint said.

Loki flinched at the biting tone in Clint’s voice.  “Indeed, yes.  It was a silly, _stupid_ mistake, made when I was very young.  And as I’ve said, I’ve made my amends.”

"What mistake was it, exactly?"

Loki blinked and fell silent, taking in the level glare his Hawk had pinned him with.  It didn’t take him long at all to deduce what Clint was implying with his question, and when he did, the utter shock he felt at such an accusation was enough to render him speechless for a moment too long.

Clint’s scowl deepened at Loki’s prolonged silence, and it might have gone on indefinitely if not for Thor’s snort of amusement.

"I had not taken you for the jealous sort, Barton," he said with a chuckle.

Frigga, rather than find amusement in Clint’s misunderstanding, merely rolled her eyes skyward and stood up straight to look down with feigned imperiousness.

"I must say, I agree with my son," she intoned.  "Hardly befitting."

"Well, until one of you feels like telling me what happened, I’ll just have to fill in the blanks myself," Clint ground out.  His eyes still hadn’t left Loki’s.

"You don’t honestly think…," the dark god trailed off.

Finally, Frigga sighed and lay a soothing hand on Clint’s shoulder.

"Loki has long been a trickster," she began.  "From the time he was very small, he as forever getting himself into mischief."

"I’ll buy that," Clint admitted.

"Idunn is the guardian of Yggdrasil, the Wold Tree," Frigga explained.  "As such, she is the only being in the Nine Realms who can harvest the Apples of Youth.  Loki, as the defiant child he was, decided to trick her into leaving her post, with every intention of _stealing_ them.”

Clint blinked in confusion before asking, “What?  Why?”

Frigga chuckled indulgently and tucked a wayward strand of Loki’s hair behind his ear.  The god had the decency to look chagrined.

"Simply to see if he could," was the Queen’s answer.

"Oh," Clint replied, scrubbing his hand over his face in a sheepish gesture.  "That…sounds like something he’d do."

"Doesn’t it, though?" Frigga agreed.  

"Sorry I got worked up," Clint murmured, casting a sideways glance at Loki.  "It just doesn’t seem like I’m getting the whole story about _anything_ …and it’s been a weird day.”

"That is an understatement," Loki returned softly.  

"Well, now that we’ve got _that_ out of the way,” Clint said, “how ‘bout you show me around this place?”

"Yes," Thor interjected, excitement plain in his tone.  "There is much to see that would interest you, I think."

"And perhaps we can avoid any further misunderstandings," Loki said pointedly.  "For at _least_ an hour or so.”

Clint’s brow furrowed and he narrowed his eyes in a pensive manner.  ”I’m gonna pay for that whole jealousy thing, aren’t I?”

"I think that you will," Frigga said with a slight smile.  "But not just yet.  Come.  I think we’ll start in the gardens."

"Sounds good to me," Clint agreed as he pushed to his feet.  "Thanks for the food, Audr.  You’re a hell of a cook."

"It was my pleasure, Midgardian," Audr beamed as she clasped Clint’s hands in her own.  "Never did I think the day would come that I’d have the chance to fatten up prince Loki’s intended."

"Fatten me up?" Clint echoed, glancing quickly down at himself before grinning at the small, round woman.  "You’re talking like I’m scrawny or something."

"Far from it," Audr chuckled.  "But never let it be said that any guest leaves my table still hungry."

"No worries there," the archer returned.

The kitchens gave out into a vast courtyard, which seemed to be a common area, with servants and guards and Asgardians of every station milling about.  When the Queen and her sons stepped out into the sunlight, everyone turned and bowed low before moving on.

It all seemed so exhausting to Clint, having the attention of everyone within sight, and being shown so much deference didn’t sit well with him, either.  He honestly hoped that being Loki’s intended didn’t rate him that kind of status.  He was good with people just leaving him alone, he didn’t need or want them fawning on him and scrutinizing his every move.

The walk to the gardens wasn’t overly long, and Clint was getting better at ignoring the gawkers, for the most part.  He supposed it was only to be expected; the last time Loki had been home, he was chained and muzzled, half-mad with impotent rage.  To see him on a casual stroll with the Queen and the Royal Heir with not even a single guard as escort must have struck the average Asgardian as a bit out of the ordinary.

"You are far too quiet for my liking," Loki said, his voice soft and low like a cat’s purr.

Clint blinked back from his thoughts, only then realizing that he’d dropped into one of his many self-imposed guilt-trips.

"Yeah, I’m… still kind of just absorbing everything," he replied, eyes darting about the courtyard and its impressive stonework.  "I know I’ve seen a lot of shit, but I’m still just human.  All this… it’s a lot to take in at once.  Probably gonna freak out about it later.  Fair warning."

It was meant as a joke, but Loki didn’t smile.

"I am sorry, Clint," he said, his voice subdued.  "I hadn’t even thought… how strange and new this must all be for you."

Clint felt a moment of panic at Loki’s mournful apology, and did his best to head off yet another misunderstanding.

"Hey, don’t start that," he said, reaching out to grip Loki’s nape firmly.  "You remember when you first came to Earth, right?  It was all new and weird and _nothing_ made sense.  The people looked at you funny and you didn’t even know what a toaster was for.”  He grinned impishly at Loki’s half-hearted glare.  “It’s just like that for me.  I’m adaptable, I can get by just about anywhere.  Done it before, and if everything works out right, I’ll probably do it for the rest of forever.”

Loki’s brow furrowed, as it tended to, when Clint had said something that caught on the god’s heartstrings in the most unexpected way.  He offered a slightly shaky smile, and Clint returned it with a squeeze of his fingers before releasing his nape, and they continued on to the gardens, trailing behind Frigga and Thor.

When Frigga had mentioned “the gardens”, Clint had thought of something like a park, perhaps a little paved pathway through some flowering trees and flowers growing along the edges.  Truthfully, such things had never held much interest for the archer, and he’d only agreed out of respect for Frigga’s hospitality.

The palace garden was not a meek, tamed atrium, but a vast swathe of green forest, teeming with birds and beasts and filled with trees that Clint felt would probably try to kill him.

"Whoa," was all he could think to say.

Frigga gazed out upon the garden, and there was more than a bit of pride to be seen in the set of her shoulders.

"Odin laughed when I proposed we install the gardens," she said.  "He insisted it would serve no purpose other than for unwary travelers to lose themselves.  It took much persuasion to convince him.  Despite his initial misgivings, it does serve a purpose."

Thor rumbled in agreement, and Clint felt Loki shiver beside him.

"We spent a week of our training in those very gardens," Loki muttered.  "Mother insisted it would serve to ‘toughen us up’, as she so succinctly put it."

"A week?" Clint asked, looking out over the twisting expanse of greenery.  "Is that all?"

Thor and Loki both turned an incredulous look on the archer, and Frigga’s eyebrow lifted ever so slightly at the disdain coloring Clint’s words.

"It was certainly enough to teach them the lessons they’d been set," she said smoothly.  "You think it not?"

Clint shrugged, though it was hard for him to hide how unimpressed he was.  “When I first joined S.H.I.E.L.D., Coulson was my S.O.  Kinda like a mentor, I guess.  It was his job to toughen _me_ up.  He dropped me in the middle of nowhere with nothing but my bow and the clothes on my back.  Told me he’d be back in a few months.  I guess a _year_ is technically a few months.”

When Clint turned back, it was to find three pairs of eyes staring back in wide-eyed shock.

"What?" he asked, puzzled by the reaction he’d garnered with his words.  "It wasn’t so bad.  I’ve always sorta liked being on my own."

"But…an entire year?" Loki sputtered.  "With naught but your bow?"

"Well, I had a knife, too," Clint allowed.  "Didn’t really need anything else."

"That is an impressive feat," Thor said.  "The week Loki and I spent in the wilds seemed like an eternity.  And yet it was but a blink of the eye to us.  For one such as you, a year is quite a span."

"I suppose," Clint shrugged.  "After a while, I stopped keeping count of the days and just focused on taking care of my needs.  Food, shelter and fire.  As long as I had those three things, then I was golden."

"A year," Loki mused, his tone holding an equal measure of pride and horror.  "Did you not grow lonely?"

"A little," Clint admitted.  "But it served a purpose.  Sharpened my focus and let me learn a lot about myself that I wouldn’t have otherwise."

"Which is precisely why I sent my boys out into the wilds," Frigga murmured.  "There are lessons that cannot be learned unless you seek solitude.  Strengths that would go undiscovered in any setting other than one that forces you to fight for your very survival."

"And yet, Thor and I had, at the very least, one another," Loki said pointedly.  "Clint had no such luxury."

"Indeed not," Frigga said.  "Which is what makes his feat so very impressive."  She turned a shrewd eye on the archer before stating, "I have a feeling that you have many more remarkable stories, correct?"

"That depends on your definition of remarkable," Clint grinned.

"Humor an old woman and agree with me," Frigga hummed. "After all, you are to be my family, as much as these two are…and they will tell you the sheer folly in disagreeing with me."

"Well, in that case," Clint chuckled.  "I’ve got _loads_.”

It was the perfect opportunity to distract Loki from his thoughts, Clint realized as they made their way to the garden gates.  Telling stories was one of the things Clint had gotten very good at since they’d gotten together, and he learned early on that there was very little about his stories that bored the dark god.  He seemed to genuinely enjoy hearing of the various things Clint got himself in and out of, and that fact seemed to hold true for the rest of his family.

Oddly enough, it was Frigga who seemed the most curious about his time on his own, and asked him so many questions, Clint felt as though he was being interrogated.

"Forgive me," she chuckled.  "I know very little of your ways.  It has been ages since I have visited Midgard.  So long ago, your people still huddled by their cook-fires and wore the skins of their prey.  They worshipped us, then, you know.  Called us Gods and offered us tributes and prayers and fought and died in our names."

"Yeah, I can see why you’d be curious," Clint allowed.  "Still, you’re better off here.  Who wants that kind of attention?"

Loki scoffed and rolled his eyes, but said nothing, and they continued on to the gardens.

The gates were no where near as grand as those of the palace, but Clint was still impressed as they opened with a creak and a groan.  Right away, Clint knew this was not going to be any walk in the park; vines clung to the very gates, and there was the snapping sound of roots giving way as the doors opened.  The light of the sun was muted, often blocked altogether by the thick canopy overhead.  The trees grew so thick together than a path was near impossible to see.

Frigga stepped forward, entirely unconcerned to be walking into the dense jungle.  Clint hesitated a moment, then decided he was too curious to stay put and followed after.  Looking over his shoulder, he saw Thor and Loki rooted in place, giving the dark forest an askance eye.

"S’matter, scared of the deep dark woods?" Clint called.

"Fear is not what I would call it," Frigga said as she laid one hand on the gnarled trunk beside her.  "Nostalgia, perhaps."

Clint shrugged and stepped into the shadows of the tree line.  “Let’s go see what’s got them so nostalgic then.”

Frigga moved ahead, the dappled light from above cloaking her in ever shifting shadows.  Clint stayed close, his gaze combing the wild tangle of vines and shrubs that piled around the roots of the trees.  After a long moment, Thor and Loki reluctantly followed in their wake.

"They grow ‘em big here in Asgard," Clint observed, craning his neck to view the canopy far overhead.

"As we do most things," Frigga hummed and stooped to pluck a violet flower, tucking it behind one ear.  "And you have yet to see any of our wildlife."

"Dunno if I should be thankful for that or not," Clint said.  "Is that maybe what’s got those two so spooked?" he asked, jerking his head to indicate Loki and Thor.

"Perhaps," Frigga answered.  "I do know that during their time in the forest they managed to find themselves in the path of several less than friendly creatures."

"I’ve heard of bilgesnipe once or twice," Clint offered.  "Loki doesn’t like ‘em much, and Thor seems in agreement.  They don’t live in here, do they?"

"No," Frigga laughed.  "Bilgesnipe prefer the plains, and generally stay near the water.  The foliage here is far too dense for their liking."

"Huh," Clint said.  "So what _do_ you have in here?”

"Wolves," Frigga stated in a matter of fact tone.  "Several types of large serpents.  Various birds of prey, and other things too numerous to list."

"So, what?  No saber-tooth tigers?" Clint teased.

Frigga smiled indulgently as a low, chuffing roar sounded from nearby, almost on cue.  

Clint’s eyes widened, and he whispered, “Seriously?”

"You will have to wait and see, won’t you?" Frigga answered cryptically.

It was Clint’s extensive experience that when you heard an animal make a noise like that, the last thing you wanted to do was wait.  He’d dealt with his fair share of wild animals in his time.  Wolves were among the most numerous, and there was that one time he got stuck in a tree parachuting into the Amazon basin and was kept company by a couple of sloths.  That roar, however, sounded like about three tons of bad mood.

The underbrush almost seemed to give way before Frigga as she moved deeper into the forest, until Clint looked closer and realized it actually _was_ ; the branches moved aside, vines retreated from the path, and thorny brambles arched away so as not to catch on her flowing robes.  It was a neat trick, and was far preferable to the machetes he was used to using to get through brush like this.

"You seem to know this place pretty well," Clint observed as Frigga wound her way through the trees, seemingly making her own path.

"Oh yes," she said.  "I built this place, not long after I became Queen at Odin’s side.  I come here quite often."

"No offense or anything," Clint huffed, tugging the trailing end of his cloak free from a thorny bramble, "but it doesn’t seem too inviting."

Frigga laughed, and this time, Clint heard an edge of dark mischief to it.  “It is not meant to be inviting,” she said.  “One of my more selfish whims; this place answers only to those who hold the power to bend it to their will.  There are very few who can.”

Clint cast a look back over his shoulder, to find Thor and Loki following a few paces behind.  Loki, though he did not look particularly _happy_ to be there, didn’t seemed ruffled, and indeed, the forest seemed to heed him as it did his mother.  It was easy to see that Loki was obviously one of those few.

Thor, on the other hand, looked as if he would rather be anywhere else.  There was a hunted look about him, and there was no hiding his obvious mistrust of even the smallest twig.

"There are reasons this place serves as a training ground," Frigga said.  "My sons were taught the ways of war and diplomacy at Odin’s feet, but the true lessons of life and death can only be learned when all pretense is stripped away.  It is easy for a king to throw lives into the red mists of battle when they are but markers on a war map, simple numbers to be calculated.  In this place, there are no kings; no soldiers or servants.  There is only one rule; that of survival.  Here, we are all equals."

Clint had to admit, he was impressed.

Loki watched as Clint and Frigga made their way through the forest, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.  He’d had a feeling that his mother would take to Clint, and vice versa, but he hadn’t expected the quickness and ease at which that would occur.

"He seems to be holding up well," Thor observed.

"Yes," Loki agreed.  "Lesser mortals have been driven mad just by traveling the Bifrost.  I had no doubt that Clint would acclimate himself wonderfully."

"He has a reserve of strength within him, that is to be sure," Thor said quietly.  "But he has yet to see all that resides within Asgard."

Loki stiffened as the pointed tone and his eyes slid to Thor.  ”What are you implying, if I may ask?”

"How _much_ does your archer know of your past?” Thor asked.  ”Have you told him everything?”

Loki’s gaze hardened and he snapped, “There is much to tell, brother.  And our time together has not been nearly lengthy enough to recount _all_ of my doings.”

"Your children," Thor stated flatly.  "Have you told him that much, at least?"

The dark god’s step faltered and his quick intake of breath told Thor all he needed to know of the matter.

"Loki," Thor groaned and he clenched his eyes shut, shaking his head slightly.  

"He knows of them," Loki hissed.  "I have told him their names, and where they reside."

"And that is _all_?” Thor demanded.  ”Do you not think that you should have prepared him?  At least hinted at the fact that your children are…unlike you and I?”

Loki’s face crumpled, and the heat fled from his gaze, to be replaced with a bone deep sorrow.  ”I…did not know how to broach the subject, Thor.  His surprise at learning that I even _had_ children stilled my tongue from further revelations.  And as time passed, the opportunity never presented itself.”

Thor was silent for a long moment before he heaved a sigh and clasped Loki’s shoulder.  

"I understand that this is not a simple tale to tell.  But Loki, you must know that to hear it from you will lessen the sting.  I fear his reaction will be far worse should he learn this from anyone else."

"I know," Loki said miserably.  "I just haven’t the slightest idea _how_ to tell him.”

"You must find a way, and _soon_ ,” Thor said in a grave tone.  ”Because Fenrir resides in these very woods, brother.  And I believe he has already caught our scent.”

Clint could hear Thor and Loki speaking in quiet tones a few paces behind, but it was obviously a private conversation, and so he didn’t try too hard to overhear.  He couldn’t help but catch a few snippets, however, and he soon gathered they were talking about Loki’s kids.  A sudden, almost painful jolt of guilt hit him when he realized that Loki hadn’t seen anyone other than Frigga and Odin and a gaggle of kitchen girls since he’d been back.

It struck him as odd that Loki hadn’t so much as asked after them.  Surely Frigga would have had some news of them; she struck Clint as being very involved in all of her family’s lives.  But he hadn’t asked, and no one had mentioned them until Thor brought them up.

When Clint looked over his shoulder, he saw the near-panic on Loki’s face, and wondered if perhaps it was a sore subject for him.  After all, he hadn’t spoken of his children much, not since that night Clint had returned home concussed.  Just the fact that it took such extreme circumstances to get Loki to open up about them might have been a clue.

Loki caught Clint’s eye, and he watched him try to swallow the panic down, but it was too late.

"Tell him, Loki," Thor urged when he saw they had the archer’s attention.  "Do you not think he should know before he commits to eternity at your side?  Better he learns the truth now than drag it out painfully over the long years."

Clint pulled up short and turned to face them fully, even as his insides twisted into a painful knot.

"Tell me what?"

Clint’s voice caught Frigga’s attention, and she also stopped to face the two brothers.  “Something troubles you?” she called, flicking absently at a gnarled vine that threatened to tangle in her hair.  The vine recoiled like a snake and retreated into the shadows.

"Tell me _what?”_ Clint repeated.

Loki opened his mouth to speak, but there were no words for what he needed to say.  There was a trapped, frantic look in his eyes, as if whatever truth Thor was compelling him into revealing frightened him to the point of speechlessness.

Thor grew impatient of his brother’s inability to speak.  “His children, Clint,” he said.  “What do you know of them?”

“ _Thor!_ " Loki hissed, low and dangerous.

Clint looked from Thor to Loki, scowling.  “He told me some.  Obviously he didn’t tell me _everything_ ,” he answered.  “Been getting that a lot, actually.  Something you wanna share, Princess?”

Loki took a half-step back, his eyes sliding away from Clint’s pointed stare.  The god’s mouth worked, but the words caught in his throat before he could utter a single syllable, and he sent a pleading look Frigga’s way.

"Oh, Loki," the queen breathed softly.  "I know your feelings are conflicted when it comes to telling others of your brood, but you mustn’t let fear still your tongue."

Frigga stepped forward and took Loki’s hands in her own even as she caught his eye.

"Has your archer not accepted you fully?  Forgiven you all your trespasses?"

"He has," Loki murmured.

"Then why do you hesitate in this?" Frigga questioned.  "You are doing a disservice not only to Clint, but yourself and your children as well.  Tell him," she finished gently.

"Tell me what _exactly_?” Clint demanded, the anger in his voice slowly giving way to panic.  ”You’re all really starting to freak me out…”

Loki drew in a deep breath and turned his gaze toward Clint, taking in the wary cast to the archer’s face.  The fear simmering in the pit of Loki’s belly flared bright, and his thoughts were in turmoil; words churning through his mind as he sought the easiest way to deliver such unexpected news.

"You know of my true heritage," he stated slowly.  "And of my ability to change shapes at whim."

"Yeah," Clint cut in.  "We went over that a while back."

"The core of magic that resides inside me; that allows such things…well, it has…other ways of manifesting.  Unexpected ways."  Loki paused, his brow furrowing as he steeled himself to reveal the truth to Clint.

Before the dark god could continue, a low, rumbling growl sounded from behind Frigga.

Clint slowly turned and found himself faced with a massive wolf blocking the path.  It’s shaggy head was lowered and brilliant green eyes fixed on him as it loosed another soft snarl.  

"Oh shit," was all he had time to say before the creature’s hindquarters bunched and it sprang toward him.

Instinct took over before Clint could form a single thought, and he dropped into a crouch and rolled to the side, out of the way of the leaping creature.  He felt the wind of the thing’s passing as it vaulted over his head, and the ground shook with its’ landing.  When he looked up from his crouch, he locked eyes with it once again.  It snarled, showing fangs as long as his hand.  Clint saw the wolf’s mane lifting, and knew it planned another leap at him.  His own body tensed, mind flipping through each and every evasive maneuver he knew to keep out of range of those fangs.

“ _Fenrir!_ " Loki’s voice cut across the small clearing like the crack of ice on a frozen pond, and everything went still.

All but the wolf, which immediately dropped all shows of aggression.  The ears lowered, the head bowed low and an honest-to-God _whine_ left its’ throat before it turned to face Loki.  Clint saw the tail hanging low, the tip wagging just the smallest bit.   

A hand on his shoulder startled Clint, and he looked up into the concerned face of Frigga.

"I offer my sincere apologies for my grandson’s behavior, Clint," she said as she helped him to his feet.  It was just as well that Asgardian’s were so strong, because Clint was in no shape to do it himself, and Frigga fairly hauled him upright with barely any strain at all.  "It has been a very long time since Fenrir has seen his father.  He is an excitable one."

Clint’s face all at once felt much too small for how wide his eyes must be.  When he looked back, the huge wolf had closed the distance between itself and Loki.  There was no sign of the vicious predator that had nearly taken his head off, and in its’ place was the most overgrown puppy Clint had ever seen.  Loki’s hand was buried in the thick mane of the wolf’s throat, and the look on his face was so painfully tender Clint got choked up just looking at him.

"Grandson.   _Father?”_ Clint murmured when his brain had finally caught up with his ears.  “That’s Loki’s _kid?_ ”

Frigga gave a faint sound of amusement as she watched the reunion between then two.  “Loki’s son, yes.  They have not seen one another since before Loki’s exile.”

Clint watched the two of them, speechless for the moment, completely at a loss for what to do with this bit of news.

It made so much sense now, why Loki had been so tight-lipped about his children.

Clint looked on as a head the size of a human torso nuzzled gently against the side of Loki’s face.  The gust of his breath ruffled Loki’s hair, and the small smile on his face slowly grew until there was no hiding his obvious joy at being with his son once more.

"I realize it must be much to take in," Frigga said quietly, for Clint’s ear only,  "but Loki’s only true pride comes from his children.  He has given up so much for them, simply to see that they do not suffer a monster’s fate.  He has had to all but renounce them as his own simply to ensure their very lives.  Even to this day, there are those who call for the blood of Loki’s children.  Father of Monsters, they call him."

The breath froze in Clint’s lungs, both at Frigga’s words, and the scene playing out before his eyes.  Fenrir was large enough to crush Loki with a simple errant step of one massive paw, and yet he leaned against his father as though all of that strength meant nothing.  Even as he watched, Loki’s arms encircled what they could of Fenrir’s neck, and Clint could very faintly hear him murmuring softly in that ancient, guttural language he occasionally slipped into.

"Yeah, it’s… a little surprising," Clint allowed.  "I mean, I was surprised when I found out he even had kids at all."

Frigga sighed, giving Clint’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.  “He did not intend to mislead you,” she said.  “The bond of a parent to their child is stronger than most.  I would wager the fear of your rejection stilled his tongue far more than any malice he could conjure.”

"I get it," Clint muttered, but there was no dislodging the hurt in his chest.

Loki’s fingers scratched and twined through Fenrir’s thick fur as he murmured softly to his son.  The ache in his throat at their reunion roughened his voice and he let his words trail away, content to simply lean into the embrace and feel the thunder of Fenrir’s heart.  The dark god closed his eyes, nuzzling against his son’s throat and breathing deeply of his unique scent, smiling all the while.

After a long moment, Fenrir whined before pulling free of Loki’s arms and dropping to the forest floor.  The immense wolf rolled to his back, all four legs waving in the air as he wriggled in the dirt, tongue lolling out in a wide grin.  

Frigga chuckled and stepped forward, going to her knees to run her fingers through the fur of her grandson’s belly.  Her chuckle deepened into a full laugh as she found that sensitive spot that caused his back leg to thump mightily against the ground as Fenrir gave a pleased grunt.

Loki looked on fondly before turning his gaze toward his archer…and then the smile faded from his face at the sight before him.

It was obvious to Loki that Clint was struggling to keep his placid mask firmly in place, but there was no hiding the confusion and hurt in his expression.  

Loki’s heart lurched as he realized that _he_ was the author of this pain; that _he_ had unwittingly caused this by being too afraid to tell Clint the whole truth about his atypical offspring.

Thor’s narrowed gaze darted from Loki to Clint, and then back again.  He huffed out a deep sigh before murmuring, “Go to him.   _Apologize_ and repair what damage you can.  You owe him that, at the very least.”

Loki nodded mutely, a thin sheen of terror churning in his mind, whispering that perhaps _this_ time he’d gone too far for apologies; wounded his archer too deeply to be forgiven.

That perhaps _this_ time his Hawk would wash his hands of him once and for all.

Clint was instantly aware the moment Loki’s mood shifted.  It was almost as if he could feel his gaze on his skin.  He tamped down the urge to meet his eyes, however; he wasn’t sure what Loki would be able to see if he did.

Why didn’t he _tell_ him this?  That was what Clint was having the hardest time understanding.  The fact that he had a giant wolf-kid was the least of his worries.  That Loki would keep this from him, _knowing_ that eventually, Clint would have to find out, was more upsetting.

 _Something_ must have shown on his face, because Loki was making his way over, brow furrowed in that way that meant there was some heavy emotional shit about to go down.  That was the last thing Clint wanted, especially now, when his kid was right there.

"Clint…," Loki choked out when he was within whispering distance.

"Cute kid," Clint said, cutting off anything Loki might have said.

That seemed to throw Loki off-guard, and he blinked and let his mouth hang open for a beat before stammering,  “I… thank you…”  He looked back and forth between Clint and Fenrir, who was now batting at vines that Frigga had called to her to hover in the air above their heads.  “Clint, I—”

"You gonna introduce us properly or what?" Clint interjected.

Without waiting for a reply, he made his cautious way over to the pair, making sure to announce his arrival so as not to take the giant wolf by surprise.  The beast’s ears turned back at the sound of his approach, but he appeared otherwise unconcerned as Clint came near, more focused on the game he was playing than on the strange mortal that had wandered into his forest.

It didn’t escape his notice that Thor was standing a good ways away, watching Fenrir with a wary eye.  Frigga seemed to be undeterred by the wolf’s size, playing with him as any other grandmother would with their grandson.  She laughed and gave him encouraging words when he missed a swipe, and gave him laughing praise when his claws tore the vines asunder.

Clint knew Loki was confused and upset, both at his own obviously conflicted reaction and his evasiveness.  Whatever Loki wanted to say would have to wait, however, until they were alone, behind closed doors.  Clint had a few things of his own to say, but he wouldn’t let that come between Loki and his son.  This was their time, and Clint wasn’t so selfish as to ruin it over a few hurt feelings.

Loki stood frozen as Clint approached Fenrir and Frigga.  He was internally cursing himself for the streak of cowardice that still reigned inside of him, and as Clint squatted down near to Frigga’s side, the dark god shook his head and steeled his spine.  Too long he’d allowed his fear to dictate his words and actions.  Too long he’d hidden away that of which he was most proud.

He would _not_ continue on in that vein.

"Fenrir," Loki called softly, as he approached.  "I have someone I wish for you to meet."

The wolf abandoned his playful attitude and rolled to his belly, ears pricking curiously as he looked to his father.

Loki placed his hand on the archer’s shoulder, feeling the tenseness of the man’s muscles beneath his touch.  ”This is Clint Barton,” Loki murmured.  ”We are pledged to one another.”

Fenrir’s massive head cocked to the side, and he studied the mortal intently before his questioning gaze slid back to his father.  The wolf chuffed quietly, and Loki gave him an indulgent smile before saying, “Yes, you may.”

Clint suddenly found himself face to face with Fenrir as the wolf snuffled and nosed at him, taking in his scent.  The intensity of his explorations ruffled Clint’s hair and nearly toppled him over into the dirt.

"Whoa," he chuckled, lowering himself to sit before Loki’s son.  "Careful there, buddy.  You’re gonna knock me on my ass."

Fenrir’s tongue lolled out in a canine grin, and his gaze darted once more to his father.  He whined softly, stretching his paws out and digging his claws into the dirt, inching forward.

"Of course I’ll tell him," Loki soothed before turning to Clint.  "He wishes to apologize for his rudeness upon your first meeting, and he hopes he did not frighten you overly much."

"Nah," Clint answered.  "Startled, yeah.  But hell, I’m the one in _his_ territory, so I suppose I earned that.”

Fenrir chuffed again, and then rested his muzzle on Clint’s knees, holding his position as he eyed the archer expectantly.  

Clint glanced up at Loki, and then to Frigga.  ”Go on,” the Queen murmured.  ”I do believe this is an invitation.  And one that very few have received, at that.”

The archer slowly brought his right hand up and stroked the thick, soft fur behind the wolf-child’s ear, noting the pleased sigh Fenrir voiced at his touch.  Twining his fingers deeper, Clint scratched down the thick column of Fenrir’s neck and if he didn’t know better, he’d _swear_ the wolf uttered a contented purr.

"He likes you," Loki said as he squatted down next to Clint, running his own slender fingers through the archer’s hair. A note of wonder was in his voice, and he fought to control the trembling relief that was just underneath.

"Course he does," Clint answered, shining a lopsided grin Loki’s way.  "What’s not to like?"

Part of Clint knew the silent smile on Loki’s face was genuine, but he couldn’t quite shake the bitter resentment at his core.  Perhaps it was irrational and unfair, but the idea that he’d been kept in the dark the entire time they were together about the true nature of Loki’s children struck a sour note through his heart.

 _It’s not his fault,_ Clint’s rational mind tried to remind him.   _You’re not exactly the easiest guy to talk to about certain things._

He knew that.  He did, and he wasn’t the only one who told him that on a regular basis.  Still, the glaring omission wasn’t easy to overlook, considering everything he was giving up.

He had to stop that line of thinking right now, because he was starting to tense up and both Loki and Fenrir were starting to give him little hints that they could tell.

An agitated huff from the wolf ruffled his hair, and Loki’s anxious fingers smoothed it back into place, the god giving him an askance eye all the while.

He had to stop this now, before this family reunion turned south.

"So, you, uh… probably have a lot of catching up to do," he said, stroking the divot between Fenrir’s eyes until they went half-lidded in bliss.

Loki’s fingers stilled in Clint’s hair for a beat before they withdrew, and he stood to his full height to gaze pensively down at his Hawk.

"It _has_ been quite some time since you spent any real time with your children,” Frigga supplied, rising gracefully from the ground before anyone could offer her a hand up.  She smoothed her immaculate gown and gave Loki a pointed stare.

Clint also stood, avoiding Loki’s direct stare.

Fenrir, still sprawled on the ground like an overgrown puppy, looked back and forth between the two, whining mournfully at the prospect of his new friend leaving.  He rose to his feet, bringing him to eye-level, and whuffed his displeasure.

"Hey, no reason to get your tail in a knot," Clint reassured him.  "It’s not like I won’t be back.  Pretty sure I’ll be sticking around for a while, yet."

Out of the corner of his eye, Clint couldn’t miss the look of surprise that crossed Loki’s face.

"We shall continue on and leave you to visit," Frigga said, giving one last parting stroke to Fenrir before taking Clint’s arm.  "The gardens are deep, and will hold our interest while you reacquaint yourselves.  Meet us at the gates when you are ready."

"Yes, Mother," Loki murmured, his voice thick.

Fenrir thumped back to the ground and pawed at his father, chuffing softly until the dark god knelt before him.

Frigga turned and led Clint away, Thor trailing close behind them, and the archer threw a quick glance over one shoulder to find Loki had twined his arms around his son’s neck once more, and was crooning gently to him.

They walked quietly for several long minutes, each deep in their own thoughts before Frigga broke the silence.

"You are troubled," she stated.

"And you’re observant," Clint shot back.

"I am a mother," Frigga smiled softly.  "And as such, I can read the tension in a furrowed brow; the spark of disquiet in a hooded eye."

"Then you probably already know _why_ I’m troubled, too,” Clint huffed.

"It is the lie by omission that bothers you far more than the child you have just met," the Queen said.  "That is what has you questioning; wondering what else had been hidden from you."

"You’re not wrong," Clint allowed.  "I just…why wouldn’t he _tell_ me?  He _had_ to know I’d find out sooner or later!”

"I will not make excuses for my son," Frigga soothed.  "Lies have never served him well.  But I will say this; thousands of years of habit is a hard thing to break, and trust is not something that has ever come easily to Loki."

"He should know by now he can trust me," Clint groused.

"He _should_ ,” Frigga agreed.  ”But certainly you have realized that this knowledge is a heavy burden to Loki?  His children have been vilified, _hunted_ , since the moment of their birth.  His most basic instinct is to protect them, and himself, at all costs.”

"Still shoulda told me," Clint muttered.  His gaze slid to Thor, and he added, "Or _you_ should have.”

"It was not my tale to tell," Thor murmured.  "Much as when you came to me, asking of Loki’s parentage.  Loki must tell his own stories, and we must allow him to be ready for such."

"I suppose," Clint sighed.  "I still don’t get it, though.  He _knew_ I’d find out eventually.”

"I daresay he knew no such thing," Frigga sniffed.

"How could he not?" Clint asked, turning a confused look Frigga’s way.

"Because some small part of him never expected you to _stay_ ,” the Queen said quietly.  ”Loki has been abandoned, in one way or another, by everyone that has ever mattered to him.  He has lived a solitary existence for eons, his emotions caged, and that sharp, bitter voice that reigns in his head insisted that you would be no different.”  

Frigga paused then before giving Clint a gentle smile.  ”I am glad to see that he was wrong.”

Clint could feel his frustration choking him, joining the hurt and confusion.  He couldn’t begin to tell them exactly how wrong Loki had been, because he’d already said it countless times to Loki himself.  He had run out of all the different ways to say it long before.  It seemed even giving up his mortal nature wasn’t enough to convince him that Clint wasn’t going anywhere.

Frigga, having said her piece, let Clint sift through his troubled thoughts in his own time.  Not to say she was an invisible specter gliding beside him; they were still in the gardens, after all, and she was quite proud to be showing them off.

"It seems so long ago, now," she said wistfully, "that my boys were untried enough to still be threatened by this place."

"Doesn’t seem so bad," Clint mused.  "It’s a little dark, sure."

Frigga chuckled and looked about with a sharp eye.  “The dark can hold all manner of threats.”

"Mother can laugh because she holds sway over all that grows here," Thor said from behind them.  "Loki has learned to bend the will of the forest, as well.  A talent that I am sadly lacking."

Frigga sighed and looked back over her shoulder.  “The lessons your brother learned so very well were also offered to you.  Or have you forgotten the tantrum you threw when I suggested you learn… how did you put it?  ‘Those _womanly tricks_ ’?”

"Wait, what?" Clint asked, turning himself to see a shame-faced Thor trudging along.  "You turned down the chance to learn _magic?_  The hell is wrong with you?”

That earned him Frigga’s full-throated laugh and her hand on his arm to steady herself, and Thor scowled and had the sudden urge to watch where his feet were going.

"My son has been listening to too many tales in mead-halls told by ancient war-horses who think swinging a sword is all one needs to prove their worth.  Sadly, it is far more acceptable to cleave a man’s skull with a steel blade than to knit wounds with a few whispered words."

Frigga’s words were laced with a scorn that belied her otherwise gentle nature.

"Well, I kind of already know how to do the cleaving part," Clint admitted.  "Didn’t know about the knitting."

The hand on Clint’s arm tightened as Frigga gave him a pleased smile.  “If you are willing, I would teach you.  It would please a Queen to have her talents appreciated.”

Behind them, Thor merely rolled his eyes.

And so they continued on, Frigga offering small bits of information about the various flora and fauna that made up her gardens.  Clint drank in everything, asking questions here and there as they occurred to him, and Thor followed dutifully in their step, still keeping a watchful eye on the shadows.

The sun had dipped lower in the sky by the time they made their way back to the garden gates, and the gloaming was fast approaching.  Clint turned to give one last look to the trees behind them, noting the way that the vines and underbrush drew closed in their wake, presenting an unbroken front.

"It looks far more foreboding in this light, does it not?" Frigga hummed, seemingly pleased.

"I wouldn’t want to be stuck out there once it comes on full dark," Clint agreed.

"No," the Queen said.  "Night is when the forest truly comes alive.  All that crawls, creeps and slithers wakens and sets out to hunt.  It is _not_ a pleasant place to be.”

"Noted," Clint murmured as he caught movement from the corner of his eye.

The foliage spread apart several yards to Clint’s left, and Loki stepped from the gloom into the dying light.  His face was drawn and he looked far more subdued than when they’d left him in Fenrir’s company.  

Frigga released her hold on Clint’s arm, nudging him gently in Loki’s direction.  

"Go on," the Queen urged.  "You have much to discuss, I think."

Clint swallowed hard and nodded.

"Thor will accompany me back to the palace," Frigga continued.  "Take as much time as you need."

"Thanks," Clint said.

Thor and Frigga moved away, leaving Clint and Loki to study one another over the short distance between them.  

"So, I think we need to…"

"I was wrong not to tell you," Loki cut in.  "So _very_ wrong, and I cannot tell you how sorry I am.”   

Loki’s apology took the wind from Clint’s sails quite effectively, and he snapped his mouth shut.  He took in the slumped shoulders and miserable tilt of his brows, and realized that angry words would do more damage than good when Loki was like this.  It left him in a very unenviable position, because, for as much as Loki might be sorry, it still fucking _hurt_.

Clint looked away for a moment to gather his thoughts; it was so hard to concentrate when Loki was looking at him like that.

"I’m so tired of being the last to know," he muttered.  "I just don’t get it.  Why didn’t you tell me?"

He didn’t look up, but he still heard the hitch in Loki’s breathing.  “I didn’t intend to mislead you,” he said quietly.

Clint resisted the urge to heave a sigh.  “That doesn’t answer my question, Loki.”  He was surprised that his voice was as steady as it was, given that his entire body was thrumming with nervous energy.  These confrontations with Loki always seemed to affect him like this.

The silence stretched on so long Clint thought he would never get his answer, and finally he looked up, only to find Loki’s mournful gaze staring back at him.

"I cannot say why with any surety," he finally said.

Clint’s teeth ground together in frustration so hard Loki must have heard it, because his eyes widened just a fraction.

"What did you think I would do if you told me?" he asked tightly, and it took a conscious effort not to clench his hands into fists.  "You think the thing that would make me leave is knowing about your kids?"

Loki said nothing, but the way he dropped his eyes to the ground told Clint everything he refused to say.

"I thought we were past this," Clint ground out.  "I thought you knew you could tell me anything.  I’m the _last_ person you need to hide from!”

His voice came dangerously close to cracking, and he had to stop there before his emotions got away from him.

"I do know that, Clint," Loki was quick to assure him.  "But you also know how my fears can rule me.  My children… are not safe, and I simply need to protect them."

"From me?" Clint asked.

Loki was struck silent at that one softly-murmured question.  Clint held his gaze for as long as he was able.

Clint’s question hung between them for a long moment.

Loki’s eyes briefly clenched shut and he sighed quietly before spearing the archer with a steady stare.

"No," he stated firmly.  "Not from you; _never_ from you.  There was never a momentary sliver of doubt that you would harm my children, my Hawk.  But old habits die hard, and your reaction upon learning of just their existence stayed my tongue from further revelations.”

"So you’re saying it’s _my_ fault?” Clint ground out.

"Not in the least," Loki murmured.  "The fault lies solely upon my shoulders.  I saw the look in your eyes when I told you of my children.  How very small and unsure that knowledge made you feel.  I had the misguided notion that I was sparing you from further harm by not yet revealing their true natures.  But then the proper moment to tell all passed, never to come again."

"Were you _ever_ planning to tell me?” Clint asked quietly.

"There were numerous times that I nearly did," Loki replied mournfully.  "But the words stayed caged behind my teeth; caught in my throat, and that was my greatest mistake.  It seems that in trying to spare you the slightest measure of pain, I have inflicted a far greater wound."

"Yeah, you did," the archer agreed.  "If you would have just told me _everything_ that night, then we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

"You speak the truth," Loki said.  "I told myself that you were injured; vulnerable, and I did not want to add to that."

"Here’s an idea," Clint offered, pausing to search Loki’s curious gaze before continuing.  "Stop trying so hard to protect me.  It always seems to backfire, and cause more harm than good.  I’m not some delicate little thing that needs shielded.  So just…stop."

Loki’s shoulder slumped and his gaze dropped to the ground, unable to meet his archer’s gaze.

"I am truly sorry," he murmured, a contrite tone to his voice.

"I know you are," Clint answered.  "But this whole miscommunication thing is getting to be a bit much.  I’m gonna say this one last time.  You can tell me _anything_ ; you can trust me with _anything_.  I dunno what more I can do to prove to you that I accept you, Loki, wholly and completely.  Having you doubt that _hurts_ , and knowing _why_ you did it really doesn’t do a lot to make me feel better.  Understood?”

Loki nodded mutely, his face the very picture of misery.

Well, it looked like Clint had made his point.  He hated giving Loki any kind of reason to make that face, but at least he could stop now.

Taking a step forward, Clint slid his hand around the back of Loki’s neck and squeezed his nape firmly.  Loki’s eyes flicked up to meet his with a mixture of pain and hope.

"If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you took this worse than I ever could," Clint said with a teasing edge to his words.

The corner of Loki’s mouth lifted just the slightest bit in a rueful half-smile, but some of the self-loathing drained from his expression.

"What is it you have taken to calling me, my Hawk?  ‘ _Drama queen?’”_

A smile slowly worked its way across Clint’s face, and he squeezed Loki’s nape harder still and pulled him down until they were eye-to-eye.  “I call it like I see it.  And besides, apparently, I have a thing for royalty.”

Loki’s hands lighted on Clint’s hips and he pulled him closer, resting his forehead against the shorter man’s own, and his smile grew easier.  “Do not think I missed the way you gazed upon my mother,” he teased.

Clint actually laughed at that, a surprised bleat of uncensored amusement.  “She’s not my type, Princess,” he assured him.

"I am glad to hear that," Loki murmured.  "You belong to me alone, and I do not intend to share."

"Glad we’re on the same page," Clint returned.  "So, now that that’s out of the way, is there anything _else_ you’d like to tell me?  Just to head off any more of these… surprises?”

Loki’s brows drew together and he huffed out a small, labored breath.  ”Certainly,” he began.  ”My other children…”

"Lemme guess," Clint cut in, trying to keep the mood light.  "They aren’t _all_ giant wolves, right?”

"Of course not," Loki agreed, his fingers tracing small, nervous circles on Clint’s hips as he spoke.  "Jorgumand is a serpent, Hela is…well, she encompasses both the living and the dead, but employs a glamour in order to appear whole.”  

The dark god paused for a moment before stating.  ”And Sleipnir, my first born, is an eight-legged steed.”

Clint searched Loki’s gaze for several heartbeats, trying to wrap his mind around all that had just been revealed.  He could feel the minute tremors running through Loki’s body, and see the thinly veiled panic in his eyes.  

And while the knowledge of Loki’s strange brood was slightly shocking, he’d meant what he said just prior.

He accepted Loki for all that he was, and that went for his kids, too.

"Wow," the archer finally chuckled.  "That’s…um…impressive.  Can I ask how exactly that worked?"

Loki gave a rueful smile, murmuring, “Magic.  As I said, it can express itself in unforeseen ways.  The three youngest, their mother was a powerful sorceress.  Pairing her abilities with my own, well…”  

"Huh," Clint said.  "And you said Sleipnir lives here?  In Asgard?”

"I did," Loki replied quietly.  "He resides in Odin’s stables."

"Then let’s go see him," Clint offered.  "Bet he’d probably appreciate a visit from his dad."

Loki stiffened slightly and bit his lower lip, worrying it between his teeth as Clint gave him a curious look.

"What?" the archer asked.  

"Mother," Loki said softly.  "I am Sleipnir’s _mother_.”

Clint was silent for a long moment before giving a small shake to his head and murmuring, “Y’know what?  I’m not even surprised anymore.  Father, mother, crazy old uncle…doesn’t matter.  Let’s just go see the kid, okay?”

Loki’s mouth curved into a fond smile, and he whispered, “As you wish.”

As they turned toward the garden gates, Clint added, “Don’t think you’re not gonna have to tell me _that_ story eventually, though.”

"Eventually," Loki echoed.  "Now that we have an excess of time, I will relate any and all stories that you desire to hear."

"All the time in the world, Princess," the archer agreed.  "All the time in the world."

 


End file.
